


The Clockwork Heart

by LoneWanderess



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Atonement - Freeform, Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Marriage, Friend-Zone, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, Longing, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Psychosis, Rape, Romance, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred, Smut, Triggers, Unrequited Love, far harbour, implied threesome, self-punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 55
Words: 68,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWanderess/pseuds/LoneWanderess
Summary: Jo was always being pulled in different directions. The Brotherhood. The Railroad. The Minutemen. Now it wasn't just her loyalty, but her heart.Ratings will be updated when required. I have really bad autocorrect, just a warning. I need a beta reader I think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson and Jo start a casual relationship.

The image of their night together was in her mind as his icy grey eyes focused on her face, distracting her from his speech. The other recruits stood rigid and respectful while the Elder paced the room, but she felt her toes fidget in her boots. Maxson paused in his oration, flicking his eyes to her lips for a moment before turning to pace towards the observation window. For a moment, the room was quiet, but she felt Danse turn his face towards her, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. She only offered a simple shrug in response, but felt the blush creep over her cheeks and up around her ears. Danse set his jaw and stared straight ahead.

It started some time ago, the casual flirting in an attempt to crack Arthur's cold exterior. Jo didn't expect it to be so easy to break through to him, or that there was a reasonable and caring man under his hardened facade. Nevertheless, after a short while she found him flirting back, offering tender insight and kind words whenever they were alone. She knew it was an attempt at comraderie; his high station left him lonely and without anyone willing to risk their career for the sake of a warm friendship or a sudden fling.

But Jo wasn't like most people. She knew she was naive in this modern wasteland, where you were as likely to die by a friend's hand as you were by the harsh elements of a nuclear world. Still, she never attempted to change much, always offering help and kind words to those around her. She kept her personal details mostly to herself, as people would likely think that she was crazy. Hell, sometimes she wondered if she was. Maybe she was locked in a padded cell somewhere, narrating the story of the Commonwealth Wasteland to anyone who would crack open the food slot long enough to toss in some slop and holler at her to shut up. Or, maybe she would wake tomorrow and discover that this had all been a nightmare: losing Nate, and his son, Shaun. 

Until then, she had to press on and try to find the baby she loved, but never gave birth to. She owed it to Nate to give Shaun the best life he could have, which is what had her crawling around in ditches and storm drains, dodging bullets, and rescuing Paladins. It helped distract her from the fact she lost the only man she ever loved, the only man who ever loved her in return. Though his tragedy weighed heavily on her, she wasn't about to become like the rest of these jaded citizens and shut down -- Nate wouldn't want that. 

It still felt like a betrayal when she accompanied Maxson back to his quarters, feeling his hot lips on hers and his firm muscles under her fingertips. A distraction after the Glowing Sea, after Danse had to nearly carry her back to the extraction point. A beautiful distraction once she was discharged from medbay. She had kept her eyes open the entire time he moved on top of and inside her, not just to gaze on Arthur's strong features, but to stop herself from imagining Nate in her mind. 

Arthur's strong hands had explored every inch of her body, his tongue and teeth caressing and nipping at every curve. He sucked on her neck and left his mark, his silent claim to her prewar body, as he tugged off her underwear. He stopped and kneeled above her, his pupils large with lust as he ran his eyes over her vulnerable form, appreciating every moment that she was under him. It wasn't proper, bedding her superior, but after her ordeal in the irradiated shithole, she didn't care. She needed comfort, she needed release, and Danse was too proper to even look her way. 

He was gracious enough to invite her to stay the night afterwards, even when she headed to leave. At first he sounded as lonely as she felt, and she thought maybe he wanted a warm body next to him. She now realized he was trying to avoid the inevitable gossip, to protect her from the venom of the other soldiers. He seemed more concerned for her than he was for his own reputation, and his eyes were so sincere that she couldn’t say no. She had slept that night nestled on his bare chest, his arms wrapped around her.

The next morning, they didn't discuss the rules of their relationship. They both knew. She was still his subordinate, and he, her leader. There were no expectations for something more, no whispered pillow talk or plans for the future. It wasn't the romance she had known with Nate, and for that, she was glad. Fewer promises she would have to break, fewer people to worry about when she faced the Institute. She helped Arthur straighten his hair and slipped out without a word. 

Since that night, every time she saw him, he would send her a knowing smirk, a slight sparkle in his eyes that he reserved just for her. Today was no different, and while everyone else barreled out of the command deck, she quietly made her way to him. He faced the Commonwealth, taking in the sights of a city in ruin, his back to her. The silence between them carried, the metal of the zeppelin creaking as it hovered above her home city. Finally he turned to look at her over his shoulder, the smirk once again plastered to his face. 

"I had considered sending for you later, but was unsure of the reception I would receive," he said softly, his voice carrying a tinge of sadness, and his face hardened.

"Oh? Why's that?" She asked, turning him around gently and wrapping her hands over his muscled shoulders. The stiffness in his posture relaxed at her touch, but he made no attempt to embrace her. He blushed and looked away from her questioning gaze. 

"I'm not entirely sure where to go from here. I want things I cannot have. Things from you," he tried to explain, tripping over his thoughts as they were put into words. "You.... you make me feel safe. I'm the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel-- the most heavily armed and best equipped force in the country, maybe the world. And yet, I never feel as comfortable in my own skin as I do when I'm with you. But I..... don't know. I don't want to use you. I can't give you more than this, and it doesn't feel right."

Jo stared up at him, at the sincerity in his face. She wasn't sure how to respond. She raised his face to look at her rather than the floor. His eyes reflected the shame in his words. She ran her thumb over the scar on his right cheek, feeling the peaks and valleys there. She ghosted her lips over his, feeling him tremble slightly under her skin. 

"Arthur, this is enough. We could die any time, and I would rather spend every night as if it's my last with you than forego this because it can't become something more."

He watched her for a moment, his eyes softening once more as he considered her words. He seemed unsure, unconvinced, and yet hopeful.

"And after the Institute is defeated? After you find whatever it is you are looking for?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we can help each other get through this the only way we can." She said firmly, resolutely. 

He crashed his mouth on to hers. They became a tangled mess of moans, hands, lips and tongues. He ran his fingers through her hair gently at first, then became rougher and more desperate, grabbing handfuls and dragging her head to the side to expose her neck to his caress. Soon he had her back pressed against the door as he tore at her fatigues, anxious to run his hands over her soft, pale skin. 

To him, nothing was as sweet as being locked in her embrace, and he showed her that, right the against the cold steel door as his knights stood watch outside.

Yes, for them both, this was enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse confronts Jo about her indiscretions.

Jo and Danse trained harder than usual, preparing for a showdown with a courser. Her hand-to-hand combat speed increased dramatically, but Danse was still faster. He would switch up his tactics frequently, and Jo couldn't keep up. She spent half of each session on her backside, or trying to wiggle out of arm bars. Danse wasn't his usual patient self, in fact he seemed cold and distant with her, almost angry.

"Danse," she panted. "You going to tell me why you're pissed off at me? Or are you planning on having me guess all day?" He swing and narrowly missed her jaw with a left jab. Had it been his right, he may have taken her head clean off.

"I am not angry with you, Knight," he answered, not so much as breaking a sweat. "Some of us just prefer to stay professional." He tensed as her fist managed to break through his guard and hit his abdomen. She dropped out of her stance, annoyed. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Your language is inappropriate. As is your tone, " he snapped. She threw her hand up in the air, exasperated. 

"I don't get you sometimes! One day you're considerate, almost kind, and the next day, I can't stand to be around you!" She turned to storm out, but his voice followed her across the training hangar.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing then, that lately I don't find myself amongst the company you keep."

Jo froze in the doorway for a moment, her back rigid with rage. Her small hands balled into fists at her sides, and she was glad Danse couldn't see the horror and shake on her face. She collected herself once more, and turned to face him. 

"You have no right to decide whether the company I keep is appropriate," she hissed.

"Actually," he replied calmly, crossing the room to stand toe to toe with her. "As your commanding officer, I do. I warned you about the abominations you call friends. You know they will turn on you."

"My friends are none of your b--" she began,  defensively. 

"And now, you humiliate me by throwing decorum to the wind and jumping into bed with not only a senior officer, but the Elder of all people! He cannot afford the distraction, he is the last of the Maxson line, the leader of the Brotherhood. What is your game? Status through marriage? Promotion? A child?"

Before Jo knew what happened, her hand struck out and slapped the Paladin so hard his head snapped to the side and an angry red welt covered the left side of his face. He glared at her.

"You have some nerve, Paladin," she hissed. "I'm here, trying my best to help the Brotherhood destroy the Institute. My son is out in the world, and instead of being out there looking for him, I'm running missions and all I get in return is your promise that you'll help me when the time is right. Excuse me for trying to forget what a shitty parent I am for a few hours. With a consenting adult, no less."

The scowl from his face fell, and his eyebrows furrowed in hurt and shame. 

"You never told me you had a son, or that you were looking for him."

"You never cared enough to ask. All you see is the Brotherhood, and everything else is just cannon fodder. I couldn't come to you, couldn't tell you anything." She looked away, her eyes going from hurt to angry and back again. Danse reached for her, and pulled her into his warm embrace. 

"I told you before that I would be here if you needed me, Jo." He shocked her by using her first name. "I meant what I said. You're not cannon fodder to me. We'll get your son back, you have my word." He held her to him, and soon she melted into him, trembling and sobbing. He stroked her hair gently as she grabbed at his shirt with her fingers, her nails digging into his flesh. He allowed it; she needed this. 

"Paladin," came a sharp bark from the hallway. "Command deck. Now." Maxson turned on his heel and stomped away. Jo and Danse broke away, and she wiped at her tear stained face. 

"Do you think I should say something? So he doesn't jump to conclusions?" She asked. He let out a soft chuckle and ran a thumb across her cheek, wiping at a tear she missed.

"Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine. Arthur isn't the man you think he is."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she mumbled. 

Danse chuckled once more and shook his head lightly before he departed, leaving her to worry over the conversation yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

When Danse entered the command deck, the Elder held his customary position: hands clasped behind his hips, at attention, facing out towards the Commonwealth. He heard Danse enter, and slightly turned towards the sound of his boots hitting the steel floor, though said nothing for several minutes.

"Elder? You wanted to see me, sir?" Danse asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. Another few moments of silence.

"I was unsure how to approach the topic with you, Paladin, but now seems as good a time as any," he said, unmoving. "I saw your behaviour with Knight Lahey earlier. What is it you think you are doing?"

"Sir? I apologize for the lack of decorum, but Knight Lahey was not in a good place, mentally. I was offering her some moral support."

Maxson scoffed.

"While I appreciate your concern for her mental health, you are not qualified to assist with psychological care. Should this happen again, you may refer her to Cade or alert myself. She needs to direct her medical care to the correct outlet."

Danse shuffled on his feet, but couldn't argue with Maxson's comment. He wasn't qualified to assist her. 

"Yes, sir. Roger that."

"It hasn't escaped my notice, Paladin."

"Sir?" Danse asked, genuinely confused. Arthur stepped closer to him, hands stiffly behind his back.

"While I'm aware that partners need to be close in nature to exhibit trust, you two are closer than most. I will make it known, to you and you alone, that I have decided to pursue a relationship with Knight Lahey. I enjoy her company, and she enjoys mine. I would ask that you remain consider this in the future, Paladin," Maxson said through gritted teeth.

"Sir, are you implying that I am interested in a romantic relationship with my subordinate?"

"And if I am?"

"Sir, with all due respect, I have no interest in Knight Lahey in that way. She is my partner, perhaps my friend, but that is where it ends."

"Good, then I don't need to worry about splitting up my best team. I'm not a jealous man, Danse, but I won't compete for her affections, is that clear?"

"Crystal, Elder Maxson."

"Very well. Dismissed." Danse saluted and headed for the exit, holding his breath. "Oh, and Paladin?"

"Yes, sir?" Danse stopped.

"If I see your hands on her again, I will kill you." He smirked, trying to make light of his threat. Danse nodded his head once.

"I don't doubt you would, sir. Ad victorium."

Danse found her in the mess, picking at her bloodbug steak.

"Everything OK?" She asked, laying her fork down. He sat across from her with his own tray of brahmin and tatos.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. A quick chat about decorum, no big deal."

"He's not jealous, is he?" She asked, nearly cringing.

"Perhaps," he answered, shoving a large hunk of meat into his mouth.

"I told you he'd get the wrong idea."

"There was a right idea? Knight, I breached decorum. Whether he's jealous or not is not the issue. You're to report any concerns regarding your mental health to Cade or Maxson directly. We will keep our relationship strictly professional from here on out. I... apologize that I overstepped. It won't happen again." Danse didn't look at her.

"Right. I thought for a moment that we were friends, Danse. I guess I should have known better."

Danse watched, defeated, as she stood and removed her tray, offering it to the nearest soldier hungry for seconds. 

He really stepped in it this time.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm apprehensive about letting this mission continue," Maxson said quietly, his back to her as he took his usual position overlooking the shattered world below. Jo didn't comfort him or offer advice as she normally would, and he turned with a questioning gaze, a gaze that went unanswered.

She didn't want to promise him that she'd return, especially when the chances were not in her favor. She didn't want to question his fear, in case he brought up Danse as a concern. That was a conversation she was unwilling to have. Instead, she stood, stiff as a board, and let the silence fill the room. She knew he would break it eventually, and he proved her right. Maxson turned to her, eyes glassy and full of concern.

"How can I, in good conscience, order you to go to battle with a highly trained war machine?"

"Don't order me, Arthur. Don't ask me to. This is something I have to do, not for you, but for me. Let me make this choice for myself."

"How can I? You'd rush off into combat with this thing, I know you would, but you have nothing to prove! We can find another way! This is too dangerous!" Maxson was shouting now, his loud voice booming until she took his hands in hers.

"Listen to yourself, Arthur. You took on a deathclaw, alone, at thirteen years old. You can't keep trying to protect me from this. I have to go." She said calmly. Arthur pushed away her hands and began to pace.

"You don't. You can't compare this situation to mine!"

"Why? Because I'm a woman? Because you are involved with me? Because you're jeal--"

"Because I wasn't alone! I didn't kill that deathclaw alone!" He snapped, shaking his head to calm down. Quieter, he continued. "My partner pushed me aside and took the blow meant for me. I pulled the trigger and delivered the final shot, but she died trying to save me. You cant go alone; you'll need an army to take down a courser."

"I won't be alone. Danse will be with me, my partner. You need to trust in my abilities, and his. I can't promise anything, but I believe we'll make it through." She poked him in the ribs and earned a grunt. "And when I do, the first thing I'll do is come right back to make you eat your words."

Arthur Maxson let out a tired sigh, and wrapped his arms around her slender frame, breathing in the scent of her dark hair and laying kisses against her pale skin.

"Then they will be the sweetest words I've ever tasted. Come back to me."

"If you promise that we'll get a day or two of shore leave." She smirked. Maxson chuckled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

"It's a deal, Knight."

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 _Six hours later_  

 

"Oh shit. Jo, what the fuck. Jo, don't do this to me. Wake up, come on! Don't die on me! Please, just hang on!" Danse shouted, trying to staunch the bleeding that was erupting from different areas on her body. The courser lay dead twenty feet away, its head a mass of gooey brain matter, blood and bone.

Jo hadn't so much as hinted at an injury while they took out the entire building, or freed the synth girl (despite Danse protesting. Loudly.) It wasn't until they exited into the bright sunlight that Danse noticed the blood. As soon as he pointed it out to her, the adrenaline must have wore off. Her eyes seemed to lock on to his, almost crossing, as she let out a surprised moan, and she dropped as though her bones had vanished from her body. The signal grenade was discharging into the air, but the wind was blowing it around so much that Danse wasn't sure if it would be seen at all. He wanted to pick her up and run to the nearest patrol, but he was terrified that he would lose her if he moved her. The 'bird finally arrived; he was in shock when the two medics aboard strapped her to a gurney. He couldn't grasp what was happening. The world was moving, but he couldn't hear a sound; the pilot was speaking to him, but he only saw the man's mouth move like in the old pictures he heard so much about.

The entire ride only took about ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. Danse gazed at his hands, still sticky with her blood, as the medics tried to stabilize her. Their hands didn't stop moving until they docked on the Prydwen, and they raced to transport her to medbay. Danse stood in place for a long while before Haylen approached him on the flight deck as though he were a wounded animal.

"Hey there, big guy. Let's get you cleaned up ok?" She said gently.

"No, I have to-- she's there, I need to--"

"Jo's going to be alright, Cade's stopped the bleeding and performing minor surgery now. You need to shower and rest, we can go visit her later. Promise."

Danse didn't really register what the scribe was saying until he stood in front of the showers with a clean towel in his hands. Haylen urged him on, trying to gently but firmly guide him to the entrance without being intrusive to the other men that might be inside.

"Thank you, Haylen," he mumbled, as he took her cue and left her at the doorway. He walked through the empty shower room and claimed the last unit on the end, where he hoped he could be left to his thoughts. The water was warm as it sprayed down on him, the pressure almost cranked up enough to blast his skin right off. He watched as the blood, her blood, mixed with the water and disappeared down the drain on the floor. For a moment, he stood still, watching the eerie blue glow of his holotags mixing with the rust colored water washing over his toes. He didn't even realize he was screaming, hunched up on the floor, until Rhys hauled him to his feet and threw a towel around him before dragging him back to his quarters.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he emerged. Sleep had eluded him; every time he closed his eyes, he could picture the confusion on her face just before she fell. He could see her blood spurting uncontrollably. He could hear her strange moan, so unlike any other sound he imagined coming from her lips. He didn't notice register that he was outside of the medbay, trying to gather his courage to see her.

He imagined her sitting there, propped up, glaring at him. Blaming him for almost getting her killed. Like Cutler. Like so many others who had put their faith in him and never lived long enough to regret it. He pictured her wrath, her scowl, heard her curse his name and disown him as her friend and partner.

But when he looked in, she was sleeping on the cot, her dark hair spilling over the pillow, a serene look on her face. The blood had been cleaned away, except under her fingernails, where there remained a deep red. Her body was littered with gauze bandages-- some spotless and some with fresh blood peeking through. Cade beckoned him in and went back to his report.

Danse approached her and gingerly ran his index finger over her cheekbone. Her skin was soft and warm under his touch, not like the cold of death he dreaded. Her chest rose and fell at even intervals. He stared at her in sorrow, taking in the consequences of his bad decisions. He should have spoke out against this mission. He should have trusted his gut. He didn't know he would do if he lost her. She wasn't just his partner, she was his best friend. She was--

"Paladin. What the hell happened out there?" A voice snapped behind him. Maxson. 

The Elder was seated on a metal folding chair, his large frame almost comical compared to the small piece of furniture, but Danse was in no laughing mood. He limply saluted the man, not having the mental strength to keep up decorum.

"Sir, it happened so fast, it was everywhere, all at once."

"Did she go charging in again? Did you bother to survey the location before you made your approach?"

"We did, sir. Knight Lahey did not charge into battle, in fact, she was adamant we remain in stealth for the entire operation, though that was not possible." Danse tried to explain, without taking his eyes from her face.

"That much is obvious, Paladin. How did this happen? Knight Lahey was your charge, and now, her prognosis is grim."

"Sir?" Danse was confused. "I was told she was going to recover. Will she be alright?" He asked, turning towards Cade.

"I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics of her condition, Paladin. I can tell you that she has lost a lot of blood, which I'm sure you knew." Cade explained, looking away in either shame or regret, Danse did not know which.

"I will be frank, Paladin. There will be an investigation and review of your leadership capabilities if and when Knight Lahey recovers. Until then, I am relieving you of your duties, effective immediately. You will remain on the Prydwen, and will report in with Knight-Captain Cade on a daily basis for continued monitoring of your health, both physical and mental. You will receive full pay so long as you adhere to these stipulations, else, your renumeration will be suspended, and you will be cleaning the molerat cages for a month. Do I make myself clear?"

"Affirmative, Elder Maxson, sir." Danse agreed solemnly. He hated being confined to a life without purpose, but if it meant he could keep a closer eye on Jo, he would do it willingly.

Maxson dismissed him, and after snapping a quick salute, he decided to blow off steam by touring the airship. He never could get over the majesty of it, but today, not even her forged walls of steel could take his mind of his partner.

If Jo died, he would have far more to worry about than a demotion, or even criminal charges. He could care less about punishment, he would nose-dive off the Prydwen if it meant she'd be okay. Of course, there was no way to know what fate would bring. No way of knowing that she would save his life that day at the old police precinct. No way of knowing she'd join the cause, or find the long range transmitter and earn her promotion. No way of knowing she'd _really_ watch his six and take the laser fire for him.

He certainly had no way of knowing he'd fall for her. She showed him a life with more than just duty: of laughter, friendship, strength, and gentleness. And sometimes, when he looked at her, he'd swear her eyes sparkled just for him, the way no one's ever had. She was devoted to him, no matter his shortcomings. That spoke volumes to him.

The only thing that he was worried about was Josephine Lahey, even if she hated him for being stupid or clunky enough to draw laser fire in the first place and putting her life in danger. He'd do anything to see her smile again, even if he had to work the rest of his life to see it. Even if it cost him everything he had. Even if it cost his very soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My SS was named after my great grandmother. Random fact.


	5. Chapter 5

It was sometime after two in the morning when Danse was awakened from his slumber by Jo's side. He raised his head and turned it towards the shuffling of feet. He caught the silhouette of a man in the doorway as he puffed furiously on a cigarette. Danse felt his stomach fall. He knew he would pay for this eventually. He just hoped it would be after Jo woke up. He needed to be here, with her.

He rose from his chair and offered a salute to the Elder. 

"At ease, Paladin."

The two men stood in silence for several minutes, observing Jo as she peacefully slept. Neither man looked at the other, too caught up in their own thoughts and fears. 

"Cade says she's stable now," Danse relayed, trying to break the awkward silence. 

"I've seen the report." 

"Would you care to be alone with her, sir?"

"No, Paladin," Maxson sighed. "I should return to my quarters; it's unseemly for me to be about at this time of night.  If she wakes, send for me immediately. I'll check in on her again in the morning." Maxson turned his back before Danse had a chance to salute, leaving the weary Paladin alone with Jo and only his thoughts to fill the silence. 

Danse cradled her hand in his own, running his fingertips over the soft skin on her knuckles. He traced the ridges of her nails, and felt the warmth of her touch. He noticed a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist, one he hadn't seen before, and examined it carefully. There, in a flowing script just barely visible, was the word 'justice'. He thought it suited her, the woman who meted out justice in a world that offered little. He longed to kiss her wrist, to show reverence for the ideal that she embodied, but knew it would be inappropriate. Instead, he decided to speak to her, to reassure her of his presence.

"Jo, you know I'm not very good at talking about these sort of things. I just want you to know that I'm here. I would give anything to trade places with you right now." He paused when his voice betrayed him, cracking slightly with emotion. "I know I've done this to you; this is all my fault. They're going to demote me probably, but I don't give a damn about that. All I care about is you getting better; you're so important. Not just to the Brotherhood, but to the people of the Commonwealth, to your friends. To me.

"I know I should have told you before. Now you have this thing with Elder Maxson, and is not right for me to feel this way about you. Every time I look at you, or hear your voice or even stories about you, I envy him and regret that I never took a chance. I want to believe you're happy and that I made the right decision, but it doesn't seem like it. Am I mistaken? The looks you send me, the laughs that seem more genuine than the laughs you have with him? I need you to wake up, to tell me I'm wrong and that he's what you want. I need to see you happy and healthy; that's all I want. Even if it's with him that you find it. It would destroy so many people if you left, Jo. So many people love you." Danse took a deep breath, holding it for a moment between clenched teeth before letting it out slowly. "I love you. You're everything to me, and I can't do this without you."

Jo's supine frame did not sir, and Danse felt a jolt of sadness. He half expected that his confession would sir her feelings and wake her, but the logical site of him knew she would not wake until she was good and ready. He could have sworn he felt her gently grasp his hand, but he shook his head, viewing it aseems wishful thinking. 

He fell asleep beside her, his face in her upturned palm, just as the first rays of dawn were hitting the floor of the command deck. It was there that, Arthur Maxson sat, drinking away his jealousy and worry while Danse lightly slumbered. He dreamed of pleasantries he wouldn't recall upon awakening, but they were a welcome change to the nightmares he often suffered. Most nights, he didn't dream at all.

He woke when Jo stirred. Her free hand moved to his neck, and Danse startled at the new contact. He snapped awake, his eyes red and swollen from lack of sleep.

"Danse?"

"I'm here, Jo," he assured her. "I'm here."   

Jo reached for his hand and held it lightly in her own, her skin cool to the touch. Danse was afraid to speak, worried he would say the wrong thing and ruin this perfect moment. 

"What happened? Did we get the chip?" She asked, her face full of concern. 

"We got it, soldier. I don't want you to worry about that right now. I need you to worry about your recovery, and only your recovery. Everything else can wait."   

"No, Danse. It can't. I need to tell you how sorry I am."

"What do you mean? Why are you sorry? You took numerous rounds of laser fire for me. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who is sorry, Jo. I brought you into a dangerous situation, and I didn't assess it correctly. I failed you."

She considered his words, running her fingers along the inside of his wrist. He cherished the gesture of affection, and sat very still so she could continue. Instead, she pulled her hand away. 

"You didnt fail me, Paladin. I nearly got you killed. I knew the mission was too dangerous. I knew. I still pushed for it. I ended up running out of ammo, and I couldn't offer cover fire when the courser came at you. I couldn't live with myself if it killed you, so I did the only thing I could and drew it away. If I had just checked my ammo before we left, none of this would have happened. I don't deserve you Richard, so please don't apologize to me."

Her words warmed him and offered comfort, only for the reason that she cared about him. He hated that she blamed herself.  _He_ was the commanding officer. _He_ issued the orders. She had no right to throttle guilt that belonged to him, and him alone. 

"Jo!" Maxson cried out, barreling into the medbay. "I was so worried! How are you feeling? Paladin Danse was supposed to alert me the _moment_  you awoke. Danse, leave us."

"As you wish, Eld--" 

"Absolutely not!" Jo interrupted. "I would have Danse stay. We have much to discuss."

"Such as how he put you in this position, for starters?"

"No Arthur," Jo forced out through clenched teeth. "This is my fault. I ran out of ammunition. Danse saved my life and got me out of there."

"As your commanding officer, the responsibility remains with him to ensure his team is conducting themselves safely and in accordance with Brotherhood tenets. This includes weapons checks."

"You can't be serious right now! We just went up against a courser and survived, something you didn't even think we had a chance in succeeding! Can't you stop paraphrasing the tenets and responsibilities for five minutes? I know you love the Brotherhood Arthur, but shit, Danse and I just went up against something stronger than a deathclaw, something no one has done before. Can we at least agree that this was an experiment in combat tactics, and leave it at that?"

Arthur set his jaw, knowing the conversation was moving in circles. 

"I'm sorry, Jo. The Brotherhood doesn't work that way. We have strict policies that ensure the safety of all our brothers and sisters in arms. I cannot make an exception. Danse will have his leadership reviewed, and I'm sure they will take into account everything you've told me. We all need to have faith in the process, and that it will deliver justice where it is due."

Danse fidgeted slightly and cleared his throat. He didn't like being spoken about as if he weren't present, and even less so when his failings were the topic of conversation. Jo seemed to pick up on this, and turned to him.

"Paladin Danse, I will be happy to speak on your behalf when the time comes to do so, and I won't take no for an answer." She too set her jaw, glaring at Arthur defiantly. The silence that followed was deafening, and Maxson shifted under her gaze.

"Very well," he scowled. "I will let you rest, my dear. I will pay you a visit with breakfast, and we can discuss much more pleasant topics then."

Arthur saluted them both, then touched Jo's face lovingly, before departing. Danse let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and threw a sad smile at Jo. 

"Don't worry about it, everything will be fine," she insisted.

"Yes, I'm sure it will be," he said, sounding unconvinced.


	6. Chapter 6

Danse stayed with her every night while she was confined to medbay. They'd sometimes talk long through the night about her life before the war-- of vacations to a tropical paradise, or ice cream, or the funniest jokes she knew (that often the Paladin had no context for, but laughed anyway, Jo noticed). He was acting warmer towards her. Perhaps it was because he felt guilty, or perhaps he was trying to take her mind off her injuries. Either way, she was grateful that he spent so much time with her.

He'd often disappear during the day for several hours, usually when Maxson was due to visit. She didn't know where he went, but she knew he had much on his mind. There were things that were so much more important than her. She wished he didn't feel threatened so much that he felt the need to leave, but she understood. Arthur had not exactly been kind to Danse since their return, despite her chiding.

Today, the Elder sat beside her, her hand in his, and spoke of his many ideas for the Commonwealth. She didn't agree with most of them, but she didn't want to start another fight. She found herself tuning out most of the time while her mind drifted to the conversations she held with Danse. He made her laugh harder than she had since she emerged from the vault. He helped her eat her meals whenever he could, brought he comic books, and even arranged for MacCready to visit her one day. He had been a blessing, that was for sure. She loved the way he would smile shyly at her, almost as if he was unsure of himself.

"Have you heard a word I've spoken?" Maxson asked with irritation .

"Hmm? I'm sorry Arthur, I'm just really tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest," she said softly. Arthur frowned.

"It is not wise for Danse to remain here so late in the evenings. I'll ensure that he leaves at a reasonable time so that you are able to acquir adequate rest."

She knew what this was, and where it was going.

"Are you saying you don't like Danse here with me unsupervised? He's my friend, Arthur." She frowned back.

"Friends don't say the things that he says to you, Jo. I heard him speaking to you before you regained consciousness. It was not the words of someone who is just a friend."

"He's just my friend. Period."

"Is that all he is?" He asked, and she content tell if he was being rhetorical.

"What are you on about? Are you going to spew more jealous conspiracy theories at me?" She demanded.

"Theories? I heard him plainly. You two spend so much time together, and now this. It worries me, Jo."

"What the fuck could he possibly have said Arthur? He's my mentor, and yes a friend. I trust him with my life everyday!"

"And look at where that's gotten you! You may feel that he is just your mentor, or just a friend, but he clearly sees more. I heard it with my own ears: he's in love with you!"

Jo gaped at him, confused, angry, and at a loss for words while she processed what Maxson sure. It wasn't possible that Danse had feelings for her. He'd never been anything other than professional, even when she tried for more at the beginning. 

"I don't want to lose you, Jo. I know I can't give you more than what we have, but I care for you. Deeply. It would kill me to lose you like that. You know it would."

"Arthur, not that this has anything to do with Danse, but really? I can't be your plaything forever. I like you, but you can't expect me to live like this for the rest of my life. I can't just have you use me until you're done and toss me aside. It's different if it's just casual sex; I tried to tell you that at the beginning. No expectations, no strings. But that means you can't have expectations for me either. If I decide I want something else, you have no claim over me, just as I never have for you." Jo watched her tone, trying to be as gentle and respectful as possible.

"Do you? Want something else?" He wouldn't look at her.

"I'm content with the way things are now, but I can't be a prisoner to your Maxson familial duties. I understand, I always have, but you have to understand that I'm a person-- not your property. I care for you, but not enough to throw my life away for nothing."

He nodded slowly and rose from his place beside her.

"I understand, Knight. My future might be governed by my duty, but you need to know that my heart is governed by you. I won't make this more difficult by telling you how I feel, but know that if I could change the web of destiny, I would."

Maxson waited for a response from her, but Jo had nothing to offer. Arthur was a good man, but she didn't love him. She felt strongly for him, but it was not the butterflies-in-your-stomach, nor the heart stopping passion mixed with affection that she longed to have again someday. When she was with Arthur, her body was on fire,  but her should was empty and cold. No matter how close they were, she couldn't tell him her dreams of a peaceful Commonwealth. No matter how much they shared, she felt alone. 

Maxon said something else before he left, but she was lost in thought. Maybe she would end up alone for the rest of her life, but it was a preferable situation to getting involved and  _feeling_ alone. Her friends would be there. People like Preston and Piper, sincere and caring. Or Strong and Ada, with their strict sense of loyalty. Cait and Mac, always good for a laugh or a bar fight. Of course, there were Curie and Codsworth, who might as well have been burn human twins, with how much they loved helping others. 

So many wonderful people, and yet, the one who she cherished most would never look at her the west she looked at him. For Maxson to even tell her that, it burned. Maybe he knew how she felt and laid a trap for her. Either way, it was cruel. 

But, if he was telling the truth...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse starts showing the emotion we sort of see in game when he discusses his leadership.

Danse was avoiding her, that much was obvious. She had been out of medbay for a few weeks, but still not cleared for active duty. Instead of blasting off the heads of supermutants, she was roaming the giant tin can in the sky. Maxson also seemed to avoid her, offering not so much as his typical scowl if their eyes happened to meet. She started to feel lonely, much like she had before she met Danse, but couldn't do much about it since she was confined to the airship.

Finally, she gave in and decided to track Danse down herself. She couldn't wait on him to tell her what was wrong; this was going to drive her crazy.

She knocked on the door to his quarters, only to be greeted with silence. He hadn't been at his usual bay in the power armour area, nor the mess hall for dinner. She realized she hadn't seen him at breakfast either, or lunch, and she was worried for his health. She knocked again, and just when she was about to abandon the steel door, it opened a few inches.

"Knight? Is something amiss?" He asked groggily. He looked as though he'd been sleeping: his hair was disheveled and he was shirtless. Jo averted her eyes from his muscled torso.

"Can we talk, Paladin?"

Danse opened the door and gestured for her to enter. She followed his lead, sitting beside him on the bed, its blankets still messy. The room was how she envisioned it: orderly and minimalist, no luxuries to boast of nor decor to enliven it. It was simple and functional, exactly what she'd expect from him. 

"I noticed you've been scarcely around, I just wanted to check that you were OK," she told him quietly as he poured them both a shot of whiskey. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, eyebrow raised. 

"Have you eaten today? I didn't see you in the mess. Are you feeling alright?"

"I have no appetite today. I assure you though, I am fine."

"You've been avoiding me since I was released from medbay. I've noticed, Danse."

He sighed and drank have his liquor quickly. He didn't pour another. 

"I...uh..." It was his turn to avert his eyes.

"Danse. Paladin. If I've done something wrong, just tell me and we can get it out in the open and work past it."

"You've done nothing wrong, Knight. I am preparing for my trial. And... being around you will hinder my ability to do so."

 She stared at him, feeling her cheeks grow hot in frustration. 

"Why won't you let me help you? You can't take this on by yourself. If you want to beat this, you'll need my testimony, don't you see that?"

"Maybe I'm not meant to beat this, Jo! Maybe I'm not cut out for this, and that's OK." He explained angrily, jumping up from his spot next to her and began to pace. 

"What? Are you serious? Danse, you are a great leader, a great mentor. You deserve to be Brotherhood more than any man I've ever known, including Maxson. Let me help you," she begged. He sat next to her on the bed once again, and she felt it creak under his weight. He seemed to consider her offer, but then shook his head.

"I cant ask you to do that. It could even be worse for me, if you did."

"You do realize I was a lawyer, right? That I did this for a living?" 

"No, it's not that. Maxson already hates me around you. Any attempt to help me will only anger him further."

"But Maxson is only one vote. I can sway the others on the committee. You need to trust me, I can do this." She grasped his large hand in her own, pleading with him with her eyes.

"Why? Why would you help me? That would pit you against him, and he's your man. I don't want this to come between you."

"He's not my 'man'. Whatever he and I shared has been over for a while, Paladin. I can't be with him, so I said as much, and we broke it off. That shouldn't affect anything anyway, it really shouldn't."

"That's almost worse." Danse grew solemn, his posture slumped and tired. Jo didn't know how to process his sudden change from empowered soldier to defeated man in a matter of seconds.

"How, Danse?" She asked, almost begging him to give her a real answer. "How is it worse than you possibly being brought up on charges, after being the most passionate soldier I've ever known? Help me understand."

He only dropped his head in his hands and wept softly. Jo didn't understand. She couldn't grasp how this organization could mean so much to him. Why wasn't he angry? He did everything right, he didn't deserve this from them. All he did, everyday, was keep her and the rest of his team safe. She pulled him into her arms, and he wept against her shoulder for a moment, before pulling away. 

"Knight, I apologize." He wiped his eyes quickly and looked away from her, though his voice cracked with tears still wanting to be shed. "This is unbecoming of me. Unprofessional. It won't happen again." He moved to stand, but she pulled him back down.

"You don't need to do this with me, you know that, right? You don't need to hide yourself away. It's ok." Jo assured him with a gentle smile. She squeezed his hand and rested her head on his bare arm, running her fingernails over the back if his hand ever so gently. He didn't offer a retort, instead settling against her embrace. 

He wanted to kiss her then, with the way she held him so gently and yet so tightly. He wanted to run his fingers through her dark tresses and know if they were as silky as they looked. He wanted to taste her mouth and know if it was as sweet as he imagined it. He wanted to peel every layer of clothing off her body and feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips. To take her then and make love to her, not just to know her, but so she could know him, could feel the emotions he could never express to her. He wanted to claim her heart as his own, and disappear in the warmth of her embrace, forever. 

"Alright," he settled for instead. He laid his head against the top of hers, taking in the smell of her hair. She would, if nothing else, understand that this was all he could give her right now. Even if he was able, he was unworthy of her if he didn't give her the trust she was due by now. "Alright."

They stayed like that for a long time, enjoying this newfound closeness. When Danse woke, hours later, she was settled on his bare chest as they lay next to each other on his small bed. He startled and was about to wake her, but then saw the soft smile on her sleeping face. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, running his thumb over it as he did.

"Definitely worse for me," he whispered. 

He let himself fall asleep to the soft sound of her breathing, and just before he did, thought he heard her whisper his name in her sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. It's all fluff, just showing Danse open up. He's thick in the head.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not edited, if you want to call me on mistakes, please do and I'll correct them.

"Knight Lahey," Proctor Quinlan sneered at her as she sat on the cold steel witness bench. "You have been summoned by this Council to determine the effectiveness of Paladin Danse's leadership. In your own words, please describe for the record the nature of your relationship with Richard Danse." Jo raised an eye at that; it took her a moment to process both the foreigness of the name for her mentor, and the way he said  _relationship._

"Paladin Danse sponsored me into the Brotherhood of Steel. He has been my mentor, my superior, and my friend."

"I see. What is your opinion of Paladin Danse's leadership abilities?" She knew Quinlan was digging for information to crucify Danse with, and she wasn't going to give it to him.

"Danse is the bravest man I've ever known. He cares about those under his command. He upholds the values of the Brotherhood, and believes them with his whole heart. He does everything he can to project, inform, and strengthen his subordinates."

"It sounds like you really admire him, Knight."

"He is my superior, sir." She answered.

"That's not what I asked." He barked at her.

"I will answer a question when you ask one, Proctor." Danse smirked from across the room. He knew she would not be intimidated.

"Is the nature of your relationship with the Paladin a romantic one?" She saw Maxson glaring intently at Danse, waiting for him to squirm. She was proud he did not break under pressure.

"It is not."

"I see. Do you make a habit of visiting the personal quarters of every superior you have then?"

"Excuse me?" 

"Answer the question, Knight," Maxson interjected from where he sat. She knew in that moment he thought her a slut, sleeping with her bosses for whatever personal, selfish reasons.

"I do not. Last night I visited the Paladin's chambers for a platonic chance to review this case. We reviewed notes for hours, and then fell asleep."

"And prior to this? DI'd you not have a romantic relationship with Danse?"

"Not with Danse." She answered quickly.

 "I'm sorry, Knight, can you repeat that?"

"That will not be necessary, Proctor."

"I said I had not had a romantic relationship with Paladin Richard Danse. I did have one with Arthur Maxson, however."

A hush fell over the room, and Maxson's face turned a sickly white. She realized she had been his dirty little secret, that he couldn't commit to more because he couldn't face up to the council. She found she had developed, in that moment, a newfound disgust for him. 

"Proctor, move on," Maxson warned.

"Very well, Elder sir. Knight Lahey, please describe the events the took place leading up to your injuries."

"We had been informed that we needed to have a courser chip to get access into the Institute. We pursued a courser after being led to its whereabouts. There were a large number of hostiles in the area, however the majority were killed before we had arrived. Paladin Danse asked me to check my weapons, and we did a sweep of the area to check for survivors and hostiles. We cleared the building floor by floor, until coming upon the courser. At this time, Danse had ordered that I remain hidden while he distract the courser. I did as ordered, and Danse sustained a series of injuries.

"The courser went into stealth mode, and Paladin Danse attempted to track it. He was not able to, as the synth was using a stealth boy. I happened to catch a faint glimmer of the courser as it rounded on Danse to flank him, and saw he was aiming his laser rifle at him. I could not in good conscience allow my superior to be killed in this small skirmish, so I intervened. I pushed the Paladin aside by tackling him, and the courser fired. I was hit in the torso and wounded, but it caused the courser to exit stealth mode, and for Paladin Danse to kill it. The Paladin called for air support, but they were delayed. He stayed with me, treating my wounds at the scene as best he could until help arrived."

"I see. It was very noble of you to risk your life, especially after being ordered to stand down, to save a fellow soldier. Tell me, how did you feel in the moment that you saw the courser in this 'glimmer' you described?"

"Terrified. Furious. I couldn't stand idly by and lose my friend." She explained.

"Of course not," Quinlan said gently. "Moving on. In your time serving under Danse, has he ever relayed any concerns or doubts about his position in the Brotherhood?"

Jo squirmed uneasily, and said, "Yes, but I would be shocked if he didn't. His doubts were not in the cause that the Brotherhood supports, but in himself. He has felt the deaths of everyone who has died under his command very deeply, whether in combat, or in the case where the soldier died while receiving treatment. He expressed uncertainty about whether or not his decision regarding assisted dying was the right one."

"And what is your opinion after hearing this? Did you feel it was the right call?"

"While I wasn't there, both Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys have corroborated his account of the ordeal, and I am of the opinion that the soldier was treated humanely, and with dignity. If I were in such a state, I would hope he would make the same call for me."

"Thank you, Knight. You may be excused."

Jo left the bench lighter than when she had sat on it. Quinlan called Haylen and Rhys to the bench also, and they pretty much said the same things, without needing any coaching. The were loyal to a fault.

Finally, Danse was called. He wore no power armour, not even Brotherhood fatigues, but a dark blue suit that fit his muscled frame perfectly. Quinlan asked many questions, going back as far as Cutler's death, but seemed to have nothing to support that Danse was a poor leader. One question snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Paladin, is it true you have feelings of a romantic nature for Knight Lahey?" Quinlan asked. Danse squirmed on the bench, and the tips of his ears turned bright red. He remained quiet for a moment, and she could see he was processing what to say in his head.

"That's true," he said quietly, not looking at her. "But I have never acted on them. She is my subordinate and I value her friendship."

"Is it not true that you have breached decorum on more than one occasion?"

"Once I offered the support of an embrace when she was visibly upset. I can think of no other time."

"You were heard in the medbay voicing thoughts and emotions whilst she lay in a coma, do you recall this?"

"Yes, but I--" Danse tried to explain before Quinlan cut him off.

"You were recorded as having said that you, quote, love her, end quote, and quote, need her, end quote. Do you deny this?"

"No, sir." Danse said, embarrassed and defeated. "It was a highly emotional time.  I have not, before, or since, acted in such a way."

"But you knew she was in a relationship with the Elder,  did you not?"

"That's correct."

"And you were jealous, weren't you?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"I'm simply suggesting that, perhaps, it enraged you to see the woman you love with another man. Perhaps it bothered you so much that you decided that if she couldn't be with you, she'd be with no one." Quinlan raised his voice, and Maxson crossed his arms across his chest. Jo's breathing became faster, and her palms began to sweat.

"That's preposterous!" Danse boomed. "I would never behave in such a way, and never put Jo in danger! You're out of line"

"Enough!" Maxson shouted. "I order that have Danse removed from duty for a period of one week, without pay, for his breach of decorum. Knight Lahey will also be removed from active duty for one week without pay for the same. You may both use this time for shore leave. Following this, there will be no penalty. Danse will retain his position as Paladin, and will be cleared of all charges relating to negligence. What say the Council? Will this suffice?"

Jo was shocked. She expected Maxson to be the one to railroad Danse, not Quinlan. Why would have offered up such a lenient punishment? And why would Quinlan be so invested in destroying Danse's career?

"Aye," Knight Captain Cade spoke, and was echoed by the other members of the Council. Quinlan was the last to vote, offering a loud "nay" but said no more.

"Sentence is to be effective immediately. Danse, my apologies for doubting your leadership, but do not let me see you breach decorum again. I will not be so lenient next time. Dismissed."

Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Danse and Jo to stare at each other in confusion.

"That was...unexpected." Danse said slowly.

"Yeah. He's got to be up to something. This doesn't make sense."

"It certainly doesn't. We...need to talk, Jo." He said uneasily.

"Danse, you were right. It was a highly emotional time. Lets just...let's get out of here, maybe get some noodles. We can talk about it after, if you want to, ok?"

Danse nodded quietly and followed her to the flight deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hate Quinlan. Sniveling weasel.


	9. Chapter 9

The heat was blistering, and the humidity was stifling when they arrived at Diamond City. Noodles were out of the question, neither Jo nor Danse wanted to eat in those conditions. They settled for an ice-cold Nuka Cola, and huddled under the little bit of shade to be found in the midday sun.

"Ok, this is ridiculous. Let's go back to my place at Home Plate," she offered.

"I'm not so sure that is a viable option, Knight. Remember Elder Maxson's orders," he said, hesitating with his hands inside his dress pants. 

"Danse, for the next two weeks we are not wearing uniforms or using titles. I am Jo, you are Richard. We're going to relax. My place has a working air conditioner _and_ a working refrigerator. If we stay out here, we're going to end up with heat stroke. Come on." Jo left no room for argument, standing up and walking towards her house. 

The place was small, but so obviously her: clean, tidy, and expertly decorated. Danse felt a relief when she flipped on the portable air conditioner and offered him a cold beer. They say in silence as they cooled off, enjoying the cold air hitting their skin. Jo was the first to speak, offering Danse a shower. 

"I had a room closed off and plumbing put in, though there isn't anything other than lukewarm water. There are clean towels and razors if you want them, and there's toothpaste under the sink. I'll grab us something to eat in the meantime."

"Knight...Jo, thank you, but I don't wish to impose. I don't mind staying at the Dugout."

"You're not imposing, Danse. It's fine, really. I've got a spare bed, though you might want to take my bed since the guest cot is...smaller. I've got plenty of food and beer, and I _even_ have a couple movie holotapes for us to watch. Please, stay." She smiled at him, beaming her pearly whites woke she kept her hand on his forearm. 

"I've never actually seen a movie before," he smiled back. 

"Well, in that case, you have to stay so we can have a movie marathon," she giggled, and he rose a suspicious eyebrow. 

"And what exactly would that be?" He asked in return.

"Oh, it's um, well you play a series of movies, one after the other. Lots of people had them. You usually have a theme, like say all the Diehard movies, or the Scream series. But, I don't have any collections; I've only been able to find a few random tapes. I have some dried corn kernels, I can pop them for a snack."

"Why would you.... nevermind. Whatever you like is acceptable. I will take you up on that shower while you decide on a movie to watch."

Danse closed the door behind him and heard it click as it latched. He quickly removed his suit, the dress shirt now thoroughly soaked with sweat. He turned the water on, and found it wasn't as cold as Jo let on-- it was about as warm as water on the Prydwen. He slipped in after double checking that the door was latched, and enjoyed the warm spray against his sticky skin. He let it dribble off his hair and down his face in rivulets, feeling each drop's embrace. He soaped up and washed his hair quickly, wishing Jo would join him, but knowing she would not. 

His member was hard and erect when he thought of her, and picturing her in the shower only made his need stronger. He squirted some of her conditioner into his hand, and brought his palm to his cock. He slowly pulled the skin of his shaft up, then down, and repeated the action a few more times. He imagined the slickness between his fingers was hers, and that she would moan when he slid into her. He pumped himself faster, fantasizing about her running the flat of her tongue up his shaft, flicking her tongue over his sensitive tip. He tightened his grip and imagined her taking him deep into her throat. When his hips began to twitch involuntarily, he gave in and began to fuck his hand, picturing thrusting deep into her inviting cunt. He could almost hear her screaming for him and purring in his ear when he felt the knot building. His felt a heat growing in the base of his belly, and he softly cried out when he came, spilling his load in the immaculate tub and watching it float away on the surrounding water. It had been forever since he had any sort of release, and he felt better. Lighter. 

He rejoined Jo after quickly shaving. He had never smelled popcorn before, and it smelled heavenly, a warm and buttery treat after the ordeals of the day. Jo set up the holotape, and Danse saw it was "The Dark Crystal", a movie about... puppets. He enjoyed the way the popcorn settled on his tongue, and the crunch he received afterwards. Jo set close to him on the couch, resting her legs just barely on his thighs. 

When the movie ended, Danse was at a loss at the beauty of the story and the depths of the characters. They discussed the film briefly, and he admitted it was a great choice: an unassuming hero saving the world. _Like her,_ he thought. 

They drank more beer and watched more films as they grew closer on the couch. Danse rested his hand on her knee, enjoying the warmth of her, even if she was wearing jeans. She had turned on a movie about pirates, who appeared to be raiders in boats, but he had stopped watching. He watched her instead, mentally filing away all of her expressions. Finally he could take no more, and slowly inched towards her, abandoning his place at her knee. Jo raised an eyebrow this time, curious, but did not stop him. 

He gently stroked her jawline with his fingers, feeling the softness there, and locked his lips.  When he lowered his lips to hers, it was not what she expected. Maxson's kiss was intense, rough, and desperate. But not Danse. If there were a spectrum, he would be at the opposite end of it. 

He ghosted his lips over hers, feeling the soft pillows of her mouth. He checked her reaction, looking for uncertainty, but instead of finding it, he found her face to be eager, looking right at him with nothing but patience. He kissed her again, tasting beer and cigarettes, and not minding at all. He never wanted to stop, but he knew they had to talk about it all.

"Jo, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me. It's foolish for us to continue."

"Maybe it is, but it feels right."

"This is only going to make following orders harder. We need to be smart, next time we could face a real reprimand. Do you even really want to chance it? Besides we need to talk about all of this. What it means for us. If we can continue working together or if this will impact our mission. I don't even know what you think about this, about any of it. I mean, I'm.... making advances on a subordinate, against my superior's orders. I'm conflicted."

He looked away when she brought a hand to his cheek. She felt the stubble growing there, and ran her fingers over the contours of his face. 

"Danse. Richard. Look at me," she commanded, and he obliged. "It doesn't have to be complicated. I mean that." He shook his head and she saw the unshed tears hiding in his eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to, Jo, but being together like this is dishonorable; I don't want to be a secret, and we would have to be."

"Why would it be dishonorable? It's no one's business what we do." She asked, exasperated. 

"Because you deserve more than that. You're not some shameful secret to be tucked away. And we can't be open about it because who knows what Elder Maxson will do? I can take whatever he deals out, but I couldn't stand to see you hurt. Please understand." 

Jo took a deep breath and stood abruptly. 

"Alright, fine. Beer's in the fridge, help yourself to whatever else you need."

"Jo, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Paladin. Goodnight"

With that, Jo climbed up to the loft, and soon turned out the light. Danse sat alone in the dark, wishing he hadn't kissed her at all one minute, and wishing he'd done it sooner the next. He thought he could hear her quiet sobs in the darkness, but wasn't sure if they were his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to reference my favorite movie here! Unedited, so please let me know of any issues; I write on my tablet.


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of their shore leave was awkward.

 Danse made himself scarce when she was home, deciding to wallow in his misery at the Dugout Inn, or sitting down by the wall, just watching Abbott work. He wasn't comfortable around her, thinking of all the things he needed to say to mend what he had broken, but never finding the words. He was hurting on a level he hadn't known he could reach, and it was all his fault. 

The last two days of their stay, Danse had planned on staying at the Dugout. It was easier, and more professional, if he stayed somewhere other than her home. He wasn't even sure what he would say. Should he tell her the truth? That her very presence drove him crazy because he wanted to touch her hands, or her run his fingers through her hair? That he wanted to throw her against her coveted refrigerator and plough her until her legs gave out and she screamed his name? Or that he wanted to search her face for her true self, and find that it excluded the one and only Arthur Maxson, or even Nathan Lahey, and held only him? Or perhaps he should tell her that he was willing to throw away everything: his career, his friends, his livelihood, all for the chance of spending a lifetime in her embrace? 

No, these were all things he could never admit. Though he wished he could say them, he knew he would never forgive himself if he jeopardized his integrity, no matter how smitten he was. 

Her smile. He wanted to be the one to give her a reason to use it, and use it sincerely. Her eyes. He wanted to get lost in them while she took his hand and walked with him along the coast. Her waist. He wanted to wrap his hand around her and hold him to her. Her voice. He wanted to feel the goosebumps it gave him every time she said his name. Her kiss. How he longed to feel those soft, pillowy lips against his as he forgot the rest of the world in favor of her passion. And her love. He wished he could know how it felt to be consumed by not only her physical being-- the softness of her thighs, the slickness between them, the sweat glistening off her body as he slammed into her-- but her heart. He wanted, for once, for someone to be strong for him, the way he was for so many others. He wanted to be held, to be appreciated and to be accepted for who he was-- flaws and all.

He knew he couldn't discuss it rationally, because what he felt was not rational. He longed to be able to have it both ways: to know her love, and to have it while he maintained his honor among the Brotherhood. But, duty cannot be forsaken for love, nor a great destiny for matters of the heart. Danse had done the right thing; he would convince himself of that. The Brotherhood had a great cause, and would save the world from its continuous follies, no matter the cost, and he wasn't excluded from the list of good soldiers who were sacrificing pieces of their lives. 

With each tumbler of whiskey, however, he felt his resolve lessen, the opposite of his intended effect. By the time he had his fourth, he decided he  _could_ have more in his life, so he paid Vadim gruffly and hiked through the cold night air back, to Jo's home. He wasn't intoxicated, though he wished he were, as that would alleviate the bit of anxiety the first few drinks didn't manage to erase. He felt a warmth in the pit of his belly, either from the cheap booze or the growing nervousness. Either way, he needed to say something, needed to tell her how he felt. 

Her home was locked when he got there, the lights in the narrow alleys dimming and crackling in the quiet darkness. It was some time before she answered; her hair was tousled from sleep and she wore only a long t-shirt that didn't quite reach half way down her thighs. 

"Danse? I didn't think I'd see you. It's everything alright?" It was just like her, to forget her anger and her pain to ensure he was fine. She gestured for him to come inside, and though he did, he didn't venture far. 

"I'm... Jo....I came to apologize." He told her, turning towards her to face the wrath he knew he deserved. 

"Go on," she encouraged gently. 

"I'm not good at these sort of things, and I know that. I push people away, and I get apprehensive at the first sign that anything real could happen. You didn't deserve me to leave the way I did, nor the way I treated you beforehand. I am sorry, and I don't expect you to forgive me."

His eyes met hers, his brow furrowed in uncertainty. She sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him gently against her. He returned her embrace slowly while taking in the scent of her hair and the softness of her body against his.

"Richard," she said softly against his chest. "There's nothing to forgive. Truly."

They released each other and she offered him a teasing smile. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to control his urge to grin, but he maintained his stony exterior.

"I need you to know, I never meant to cause you grief, or any kind of pain. I just--"

She cut him off when she pulled him down to her briskly and crashed her lips against his. Before long, Danse found himself reciprocating her kiss. He tasted the sweetness of her lips, and tentatively opened his mouth to slide his tongue into hers. When he felt her tongue massaging his, an act of sensuality rather than the snobbery and desperate events of his youth, he moaned into her mouth. She ran her palms up his chest, then around his neck, and finally landed on the back of his neck, where she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Her embrace felt so right, like he had just come _home_. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were pushing back her lapels and he was exploring the soft curves of her breasts, and soon they were atop her bed and both missing clothing.

"Are you sure?" She asked, nervousness creeping into her voice. He kissed her neck, rounding his tongue on the corner of her ear enough to make her shiver.

"Of this, of you, I am sure." The relief on her face was enough to make him regret all the times he pushed her away. He crashed his mouth against hers again while sliding off her pants. Her skin was soft against his fingers, a slight down covering her thighs. He released his swollen member from his own fatigues, not daring to ruin the moment by plunging into her.

he ran his fingers over the wet folds between her legs, smirking to himself when she mewled under him. He sat back on his haunches and stared at her in awe. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils large and lustful, her skin reminding him of fresh snow. Her breasts were perfect in both size and shape, and he cupped both under his large hands before pulling her nipple into his mouth and suckling them.

Jo was panting under his ministrations. He laid gentle and erotica kisses across her abdomen before finding his mouth left him between her thighs. He had never kissed a woman here before; he had never had time for much more than a speedy dalliance. Now, however, his lips found her nub with ease, and he took turns flicking and licking her with the flat of his tongue, lapping at her, kissing and sucking. Before long, she was moaning loudly, saying his name over and over. He inserted a finger into her slowly, and when she bucked against his hand, he began to pump her while he sucked on her sweet flesh. With one last long moan, she began to tremble and shake. He rode her through her orgasm, enjoying the sensation of her coming undone in his mouth while her insides squeezed his finger without mercy.

He could take now more. Hopping up from his position, he hovered over her, and angled himself at her entrance. He waited for her eyes to meet his, and whispered, "I love you, Jo." With no further preamble, he slowly pushed inside. 

He waited for her to adjust to his girth, and found her insides were still contracting, offing him a good squeeze. He moaned at the feeling. When he couldn't wait any longer, he pushed himself in even further,  bottoming out within her and making her cry out. Without further waiting, he began to thrust into her, slowly at first, but soon finding he felt a sense of desperation. He began to pump faster, the sound of her driving him harder. His hands explored everywhere they could reach as he relished the feel of his cock inside her glistening heat. Her moans became louder and her breath faster, and soon she came undone underneath him, calling to God and to Danse both as she came for the second time. 

When Danse felt her insides begin to contract once more, his resolve melted away. He plunged into her without mercy, thrusting harder and faster than he ever had before, snapping his hips into her as she trembled under him. He felt the heat in his belly and the knot in his balls, and shot the hot cum into her clinching cunt with a loud grunt. He rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm by pumping her slowly. He let out a soft chuckle and kissed her shoulder.

She pulled his face to hers, and rested his forehead atop her own. She sighed contentedly and fluttered her eyes closed, the soft blush still on her cheeks as she held him close and ran her fingers down his back so softly it gave him goosebumps. He smiled to himself and kissed her softly before rolling her atop him to lay on his chest.

They stayed like that for the remainder of the night: sated in their lovemaking and unashamed of this newfound bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter for days. Let me know if you prefer this scene over the last sex scene, I've never written smut before!


	11. Chapter 11

The day finally came for Jo and Danse to return to the Prydwen. The temperature had plummeted significantly and Jo marveled at the sight of her breath in the cold air-- a rare sight as the Commonwealth generally had mild weather, even in winter. The wind picked up, tossing Jo's hair about her face wildly, and her puffs of breath disappeared. She frowned in disappointment, and Danse gave her a questioning look. Jo smiled and shook her head, giving his cold hand a quick squeeze.

They traveled a fair distance from the city before Jo pulled out her signal grenade and stopped. Danse turned to her with a look of sadness in his deep brown eyes, wishing somehow that he could have made their time together last longer-- forever even-- but knew their duty was to the Brotherhood, no matter the personal sacrifices that were required. Jo traced the tip of her finger over the rounded edges of the grenade and looked at Danse with her eyes full of an unspoken heartbreak.

"Well, this is it. Everything is going to change when we get back, you know. Any regrets?"

Just the look in her face told a story without a happy ending, without a sunset to walk off into. What little hope he had given her for companionship and love was as evanescent as her breath on the wind. She never wept or even whimpered, but he knew her sorrow was as deep as his own. To know love, no matter how briefly, and lose it was to experience a death over a hundred times worse than any he could imagine from combat. He wrapped his arms around her and savored the smell of her hair.

"Don't," he softly chided. "We can figure it out somehow. We'll... we'll find Shaun and destroy the Institute, and then things will be easier. Maybe I'll retire, or we can leave the Commonwealth. I don't know, but I don't want to lose you when I've just found you. Until then, as much as I don't like it, we'll need to be discrete." She offered him a weak smile and he kissed her softly, cupping her cheeks and savoring the warmth of her.

"If Maxson finds out..."

"He won't. No one will. We'll save our relationship for when we're on our own."

"I guess that could work," she sighed. "I'm just worried, Richard. If he does somehow find out, he'll kill you, I know it. He's jealous, and he's threatened by you."

"I know, but I'll avoid his radar, I promise. I will be the ideal soldier, and after it's all over, we'll disappear."

Jo nodded once more and grabbed him fiercely. She kissed him as if she were starved for air, and when she pulled away, her lips were red and swollen. She wrapped her fingers around his own again, and held his hand to hear heart in a gesture of utmost affection. He wanted to burst with the love he had for her.

"It's alright, Jo. Pull the pin."

So she did.

 

_____________________

 

They had rehearsed their lines before they left. Jo had stayed at her home, and Danse had stayed with Piper, or so they would have everyone believe. She had sought him out, but Danse avoided her out of fear of further reprimand. They ran into each other once in the marketplace when she went to pick up some fresh meat and Danse was buying noodles. They had their story all worked out.

Maxson wasn't on the flight deck when they stepped aboard. Kells was also absent. Only Quinlan was there to greet them, his usual sneer plastered on his face.

"Welcome back Paladin." He nodded. "Knight." He gestured to Jo and then back to the door leading inside. "Please accompany me inside. I am to escorted you to your places of required presence."

They both greeted Quinlan in turn: Danse in his usual gruff way and Jo in her sweet sing-song voice. Quinlan first walked them to the mess hall where he pointed to the counters.

"We are short on men to assist in the meal preparations this week. Paladin, you will be filling in here for the time being. Next week, Elder Maxson will have found a more suitable position for you."

"Yes sir," Danse replied, looking like a kicked dog. Jo frowned and gave him a sympathetic look. Quinlan didn't say more, but rather turned on his heel and led Jo to the observation deck.

"Elder Maxson will brief you on your assignment as it is slightly more involved. I will meet you in the morning at first light on the command deck to send you off and answer any questions you may have."

"Yes, Proctor, sir, " she answered, the second person to feel defeated by this weasel of a man.

"Well then, good day, and good luck, Knight." Quinlan turned on his heel once more and left.

 _His signature move_ , she thought as she opened the door.

Maxson's back was to her, as it usually was, but his posture was slumped-- not his usual rigid and alert stance. He didn't turn when she entered through the solid steel door, the same door she had been pressed against months before. She didn't want to think about that, or the way her heart still fluttered when he finally turned to look at her.

But this time, he looked terrible. 

He obviously hadn't slept much; there were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth was curved into a deeper frown than usual. He looked exhausted, as though he had been drinking for a few weeks. He had seemed to have lost weight, and she wondered if he had eaten at all when she was away.

"Elder Maxson?" She asked cautiously, but he didn't respond. He regarded her silently for a minute, considering, calculating. She didn't say a word as he watched her, his gaze longing and almost fearful. Finally the minute was over, and he crossed the room in two powerful strides before crashing his lips to hers. She didn't know what to do, but she was afraid to push him away, afraid to make him suspicious of her time away from the Prydwen. 

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking with unexpressed emotion. "I should never have sent you away. I shouldn't have reacted so harshly. It just drove me crazy, thinking about Danse with his hands on you." He kissed her again, this time gently and with sincerity. "I'm a fool, Jo. All you've ever done is give me everything I need, and I keep pushing you away. I can't live without you, I don't even want to imagine a world in which you are not by my side. Please, forgive me. Please."

"I.... don't know what to say," she said.

"Tell me you'll take me back. Tell me you'll forgive me for being a jealous fool." She saw his eyes were filling with tears, tears he was too proud to cry.

"I... Arthur, where is this coming from?" She asked, bewildered.

"I've had all this time to think. I should have trusted you, I should have given you more of me and just said screw tradition, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldnt be making the best choices if my head was clouded with thoughts of you. Afraid that I would make the wrong decisions, when I have so many lives in my hands, and all these men and women depend on me. Afraid that I couldn't live up to their expectations if I didn't follow tradition. And afraid that, somehow, I would let you down. I realize that you weren't holding me back or causing me to make brash decision,  in fact the opposite: I am stronger man, a better man, because of you. I'm not afraid anymore," he promised.

He took her hands in his, the same hands that held Danse's not an hour before. She tried to study his face, to see if he really did have a malicious plan, or if he meant what he said. She cared for Arthur and was attracted to him, but Danse was everything she wanted, and needed, in her life.

Before she could say a word, Arthur dropped to one knee. He pulled a ring out of his pocket, a simple gold band with an opal, obviously a family heirloom.

"Marry me, Jo. I don't want to walk one day on this earth without you. Tradition be damned, I love you. I know I don't deserve you after everything I've done, but I'm hoping you'll let me make it up to you," he pleaded. His face was so sincere, but Jo felt her heart harden.

She didn't want to marry Arthur, no matter what they once shared. She wanted to wake up next to Danse, and to hear his voice in the mornings. She didn't want to be second on a long list of priorities, she wanted to be first, and Danse was willing to sacrifice everything to give her that. Maxson may want to give her the world, but the world wasn't his to give. Danse wanted to _share_ it with her. She knew what she had to do.

"I need time Arthur... to think about it. It's a lot to take in, and I wasn't expecting to hear that. Can you... can you give me time? Are you willing to wait?"

"For you, my love, I am willing to tear open heaven and go through hell. I beg you to really consider it, but please dont keep me in suspense. Every day will be torture without you, as it has been." He kissed her again, looking for any sign of affection.

This was getting more complicated by the minute. She thought about it all as she walked back to her bunk. Agreeing to Maxson's plan would keep Danse safe for good. It would destroy his love and trust though, and she didn't think she could ever do that to him. Rejecting the offer would anger Arthur. He would need an outlet for his humiliation, and would surely suspect Danse was the cause. Life would become difficult then, even if she called things off with Richard. 

The only out she saw was one that would be the most painful for her. She could lead Maxson to believe she would marry him, and when the time was right, escape with Danse. Maxson would never forgive her, and would maybe even try to hunt her down in revenge, but her and Danse had a chance. Richard wouldn't agree of course, and he would likely refuse to allow her to play the role of martyr. He would rather be killed for the truth. And the truth _would_  get him killed.

"I'll think about it Arthur, I will," she promised, and released his hands. He rose to his full height, and where he would normally tower over her, leaving her intimidated, he radiated love and affection, and she felt safe.

 _For now_.

"Very well. Tomorrow you will be traveling and hopefully will find a way with one of your contacts on how to decode the courser chip that you and Danse have recovered. He will not be accompanying you, as his schedule was made the day you left, but he will be back to his duties on your return. I trust you, Jo. I want to reaffirm that I will sort this out, and I will make things right by you."

"I know, Arthur. I will go get ready for the journey."

She didn't hear his goodbye, nor the greetings of anyone else aboard. All she could think of was getting to a quiet place. She found Quinlan's office deserted for once, and began to scribble furiously on a discarded piece of paper:

' _Forecastle. 0100.'_


	12. Chapter 12

Jo waited for Danse on the forecastle as she listened to the humming of the airship. The wind was cold up here, and tiny snowflakes that would never be seen on the ground below whipped about the deck. As cold as it was, she needed to steady herself, and had each hand white-knuckled around the fridge railing. She wasn't afraid of heights; she was afraid for Danse's inevitable reaction.

Punctual as always, he opened the heavy steel door at precisely 12:59 am. She didn't turn to greet him, afraid that he would see the tears on her cheeks and the agony in her eyes. Instead, she feigned that she hadn't heard him, and gathered her composure while he approached. His hand gentle touched her waist, and he turned her to face him, startling at her puffy cheeks and red rimmed eyes. He recoiled, unsure if he had caused her any hurt.

"Jo? What's wrong?" He asked, as if approaching a wounded animal. She fell into his arms, feeling them wrap her in comfort as she tried to find the words she needed to say. She let her heart rest against his muscled chest and listened to his heart beat, as if to assure her that she ever had a place in it.

"I..." She tried to gauge his reaction for what she would tell him. "We need to talk."

Danse furrowed his brow, both concerned and seemingly preparing for the bad news. He dropped his hands to his sides, then turned and placed his hands on the real himself, steeling against whatever heartbreak she was delivering.

"Alright," he said finally. Jo edged closer, standing next to him as the looked out over the world and at the bright glow of the radiated wastes beyond.

"I'm leaving at dawn to decode the chip," she began. He gave her a sidelong look.

"Yet, that's not what you came to say." He remarked. She nodded silently, still not looking at him.

"No. It's not." She let a long pause hang between them, and he did not offer an interruption. "I don't think returning is the best idea, and I want you to come with me." It was then that he turned to her, staring at her strangely for her audacious idea.

"You want to... leave? I don't understand. Why would you abandon your post right before you have the answers you seek? And why do you want me to accompany you?"

"Richard, Maxson proposed to me tonight."

"Proposed what?" He asked, still confused.

"Marriage. He asked me to marry him." She explained. Danse's lips curled into a snarl and he glared into the surrounding nothingness. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and his back went stiff.

"Maybe you should." He said through gritted teeth. He knew what she was getting at; she didn't even have to say it.

"No, Danse, no. I don't want Arthur Maxson."

"He can give you what I can't."

"No, you have everything I need." He scoffed at that, but she continued. "I don't want to be kept in a cage and paraded around at his convenience. I don't want a man who cares only for himself, or justifies how he treats me by the effect it has on his troops. I want you: a man who is gentle and kind, honorable and strong. A man who may not have much, but he has faith in me. In _us_ ," she told him sternly as she reached for his hands, which he finally relented and gave her.

"We can't leave Jo, we can't. Maybe it's for the best." Tears filled his sorrowful eyes, but he would not cry. 

"How is this for the best, Danse?" She wanted to stead at him, but knew she would wake someone. Danse shook his head. 

"Do you love me?" He demanded, holding her gaze with his own. 

"I... care for you deeply." He scoffed again at her response. 

"So you want me to give up my duty during a war, when you don't feel the same for me that I feel for you?"

"That's not fair! I want to. I just... If you don't want to leave, we can play his game until this war is over, and then we can run away, like we planned. If we stay, and I say no to Arthur, he'll kill us both. I just need to know that we can get out of this."

He studied her face, and looked away into the night again to consider her words. 

"Life isn't fair Jo. I love you, and I want a life with you--"

"So let's go, let's just run away--"

"But not like this," he said with finality. "I don't want to play games, and I don't want to share you. I don't want these secrets and these lies. And I've told you before, I won't abandon my brothers, not when we're so close."

"What are you saying, Richard?" She asked, her lip trembling in horror.

"Marry Maxson if it makes you happy. I love you, I have since Arcjet, I think. But if you don't love me, you can't ask me to do this. I'm sorry, I wish things were different for us, but I can't _do this."_ Now, Danse had tears streaming down his cheeks, leaving silvery streaks that reflected the moonlight and wrenched her heart to see. She didn't have long to see them though; Danse abruptly turned and left her standing on the forecastle with nothing but the dark for company. 

 

 

__________________________

 

 

Dawn came slowly for Jo. She couldn't sleep with her thoughts shifting back to Danse every time she closed her eyes. She wept silently for everything left unsaid between them, for every gasp made in passion and every embrace made for comfort.

She hadn't felt like this since Nate: the heart-pounding, all-consuming and raw emotion found within true romances and tragedies alike. She wanted to love him, she wanted to give him all of her, but it felt like a betrayal to her husband. It didn't feel like enough time had passed for her to move on, and she still owed it to him to find Shaun and raise him as Nate would have wanted. She had built walls so high that he couldn't possibly climb them, and all she could do to show him how she felt was to keep Maxson from killing him in blind rage. 

She couldn't marry him, hell, she wasn't even sure if she could trust him again. The Brotherhood was her only shot at finding the Institute, and Shaun, and at its head was a man who fought over her like a dog fighting over a piece of meat when he had the whole brahmin. All she wanted was a chance to live again, a chance to love again. Without the man who could show her it was possible, it would only ever be a pipe dream, and she'd only be going through the motions. 

When dawn was just sliding across the flight deck, Jo found Maxson also waiting for he there. She wanted to pounce on him and tear the knowing look of his face. Instead of his customary nod and briefing, he learned towards her and kissed her cheek softly-- and by Brotherhood standards, he may as well have been fucking her on the deck for everyone to see. Every eye was on her, and her cheeks were hit with embarrassment. 

"Be safe, my love. And think about my offered ." He whispered seductively in her ear.  

She nodded and offered a hesitant, small smile in return before climbing on board the vertibird. She buckled herself in, and just add the bird took off, she could swear she saw Danse on the far side of the deck, just watching with hunched shoulders. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

"Relax Charmer, Tom will get the chip decoded for you in no time," Deacon assured her, throwing an arm over her shoulder. He pulled her away from the others, and when they are alone, she saw the worried look in his eyes.

"That's not what's really bothering you, is it boss?" He asked quietly. "Was it that mutated tin can? 'Cause I'll kill him if he hurt you." He held both her shoulders at arms length and watched her face for traces of... he didn't know what.

"No, Deeks. I'm sorry, I've just been distracted lately." She brushed him off, but he wasn't having it.

"You don't honestly think I believe that, do you? Common, let's talk shop. What's got you all 'someone's going to die today?'"

"Deacon, please, just let it go. I'm just going through some stuff, I don't want to talk about it."

Dark sunglasses hid the considering stare beneath, but she knew he was studying her, looking for hints as to what her issue was. He released her arms reluctantly, brushing his palms down them as he did.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "We're all entitled to our secrets. But listen, if you want to talk, just know that I'm always in your corner. I mean that, I care about you."

"Thanks Deeks, for understanding. You're a good friend."

"The best, right? Besides, getting friend-zoned has its perks. My BFF is the coolest cat in the Commonwealth. How many people can say that?" He grinned.

"Friend-zoned? You can't be serious."

"Totally serious. Even started a whole fan club. Me, Danse, Maxson, Preston, though MacCready hasn't paid his dues yet. I'm telling you, if every man who's in love with you signs up, I can buy an entire settlement, and train Fluffy to defend it."

"For a minute I thought you were dropping a bomb on me. Last thing I need is all my friends nipping at my heels."

"Really? A bomb? Too soon, boss, too soon. Let's be honest though: the last thing anyone wants to nip at is your heels. Trust me, they're aiming a lot higher. But in all seriousness, you're more popular with the men than you think. Even I wasn't immune to your pre-war pinup smile."

"You? Really?" She asked, calling his bluff.

"Sure, you're smart, drop dead gorgeous, and have a heart of gold. What wasn't too like? If you hadn't got with Maxson, maybe I'd have made a move, maybe not. Guess you'll never know," he mused with a spark in his eyes.

"Guess not, but hey, since you enjoy your place in the friend-zone hierarchy, I think I need some help with building a fence next weekend." She smirked, but then pretended to scowl.

"I take back what I said: you are officially not the coolest cat in the Commonwealth. Maybe the meanest."

She laughed at that, and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Deacon smiled and offered her a cigarette, which she accepted quickly. She tried to hide the shaking in her hands as she lit it, but he wasn't fooled. He lit it for her and watched as the smoke curled around her. He imagined her as a sultry lounge singer-- long dark hair piled high on her head, sequend dress accentuating her curves, and high heels showing off her muscled calves. She'd wear a but of kohl around the eyes, but not much other makeup-- other than the blood-red lipstick that would make him stare at her lips while she sang. She'd give Magnolia a run for her money without even trying. When she was done, she ground the cigarette into the stone floor with her boot, leaving a charred mark and flakes of tobacco. 

Jo decided to rest up while Tom tinkered at his terminal, grabbing a mattress by Carrington's station. Though Deacon wasn't tired, he claimed the mattress beside her as she laid on her back, staring at the stone ceiling with one arm under her head. She was quiet, and he didn't like that she wouldn't confide in him like she normally would. He kept his thoughts to himself, just watching her while he pretended to try to sleep. An hour or so passed, and Tom's rhymatic typing at his terminal nearly put Deacon to sleep when she finally spoke. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered, and he turned to face her. "I keep hurting people, and I don't mean to. I want to be happy, but I can't, I don't think I deserve it agree everything I've done." A small tear escaped the corner of her eye before she looked at him. He could see the agony of her situation, and hear the guilt in her voice.

"Listen, Charmer... I've been where you are. I can't tell you one thing that I do know. If anyone deserves to be happy in the whole fucking Commonwealth, it's you. I've never met anyone as selfless as you. Ever." 

"Then why can't I give my love to the man who gave me his? He does so much for me, and I still ask him for more, but I never give anything back. Now in in a fucked up situation: Maxson wants to marry me. If I say no, Danse will get the blame and Maxson will find a way to kill him, or make his life hell. If I say yes, Danse will hate me forever. And if I trick Maxson so Danse and I can be together, I'm asking him to leave behind everything he's ever loved." She let out a long sigh, and closed her eyes. "I guess it doesn't matter now. Danse and I broke up this morning, because of me. Because he thinks I don't love him, that I don't care for him the same way that he cares for me."

"Well, do you? Love him?" he asked, couching his head to the side in a birdlike fashion. 

"I... I mean, I don't know. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for him. I mean, I don't jump in front of gunfire for just anyone. But I look at what happened with Nate... I can't go through that again."

"Yeah," Deacon said quietly, staring at a spot on the floor. "I know how that goes. Maybe one day you'll change your mind. Maybe he'll even be there still. Who knows, right?"

"So what do I do?" 

"Well, first you gotta make a decision, boss. You have to decide what decision you can live with. I can't help you there. But marriage is a big step, and Maxson doesn't seem like he'd be the type to grant a divorce. He also doesn't seem like he likes competition. But playing Him? That's harsh. He's not going to let that go. Whatever you decide boss, I'm with you."

"I know.  Thanks Deeks."

Jo closed her eyes and soon she was fast asleep. Deacon watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulder, and wondered if the day would ever come when he could move on from his own beautiful wife.


	14. Chapter 14

Jo had passed the chip in to Quinlan before heading back to brief Maxson of her progress. He stood in his usual place, hands grasping the circular railing as freezing rain pelted across the observation window. It was a dark afternoon, and the air was chill with the smell of winter in the horizon. Jo pushed the thought of a Christmas without her family to the bank if her mind and cleared her throat.

"Reporting in as requested, Elder."

Maxson turned to face her and his face lit up. The color had gone back to his cheeks, and he had gotten a haircut and neatly trimmed his beard. He was as striking as the day she had first laid eyes on him, and a nostalgic feeling came over her that she was quick to suppress.

"Knight Lahey, please, have a seat." He offered her a glass of whiskey and poured one for himself. "I'm interested in hearing whether you were able to make contact with your source." He sat beside her and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. The feature felt a bit too familiar, and it made her uncomfortable, though he didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, I located my source and had the chip decoded. I think I've found a way in, but I need to travel to the Glowing Sea again. There's someone there who can help."

Maxson poured his second glass slowly, noticing she hadn't touched a drop yet if her own. He tossed it back without preamble, enjoying the familiar burn in his throat. His brow furrowed in concern, and he forcefully placed the glass back on the table. 

"I don't like you going out there," he began, before catching himself. "Any of you."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "It's not a trip I look forward to, but it's the only way." 

"And if something happens to you while you're gone? How will I even know?"

"It's worth the risk, Elder," she answered. 

"Not to me." He didn't bother to hide the glare he wore, not even when she downed her own whiskey, poured another, and drank that one too. He felt the need to pull her into his arms, to keep her safe and as far away from danger as possible, but she had to come to him on her own, in her own time. 

Jo crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a defying stare. 

"Arthur, everyone I loved is dead. I promised my dead husband I would find his son and raise him." Her eyes changed from their cold stare, seeming to melt at a distant memory. "It's worth everything to me. Until I have Shaun again, I can't even fathom living my life, and that includes a life with you."

Maxson softened under her gaze, his posture relaxing and a slow smile emerging from his stony and stoic face. He cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb over her cheek.

"But you will consider it? Truly?" 

"I will, but only after I find him. Then we can talk about everything more and come to a decision _together_ , alright? But, I need to focus on this part of my life, and that means everything between us needs to stay on hold until then. Everything." 

Maxson licked his lips and watched hers, and she knew he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he opted to press his forehead to hers, waiting the feel of her so close to him.

"Very well. Just promise me you'll be safe. I want you to take Danse with you; he's the best marksman and tactician I have, and I trust him to bring you back to me."

"No, Arthur, that's not necessary," Jo protested, pulling away from the initimatacy surrounding him.

"I'm not asking as your lover, or even as your friend. I'm giving you a direct order as your superior."

Jo groaned internally, but did not argue. She did stand a better chance if her mentor was with her, but only if she could stay focused. With the unspoken words from their shattered relationship acting as a distraction, she was certainly going to have a challenge ahead of her.

______________________

Danse was busy sparring with the weight bag when she found him, his upper body bare and sweat rolling down his back in rivulets. She admired the flexing of his shoulder and back muscles while he punched his aggression out. He didn't seem to be tiring, and Jo watched him while thinking of what to say.

They hadn't spoken since that day, the day he broke off any chance they might have had. The day he decided he couldn't cope with their circumstances, nor the consequences of changing them. She wondered if he had changed his mind, or softened his resolve at all, but then realized he would have come to her if he had. He again was avoiding her, and a pang of heartache hit her when she remembered the sacrifice she had made before the last time he had acted this way. She remembered him revealing the truth of his feelings for her, the intimacy they shared-- not just the steamy bits she remembered deep in the base of her spine, but every caress and gentle touch. She had never felt so lonely, so hurt, as she did in that moment. 

What she had felt for Nate was hard to overcome; the sense of betrayal she felt when she first realized her attraction to the Paladin, the sense of duty to her husband around the unheard, but certainly felt, promise to find Shaun. She remembered the last day, how all he wanted was a family picnic, but she had to ruin it with her indecisiveness. He'd want her to make a decision, to move on, and to be happy. The chapter in her life to which Nate belonged was over, and a new one had begun, but it was up to her to decide what to fill the pages with and if it had a happy ending. 

"Knight Lahey? Is something amiss?" He asked, startling her out of her reverie. He settled the weightbag and the only sounds were the overhead chains and his heavy breathing. The sound brought her a certain memory, when their bodies had been intertwined, him pumping into her as she clawed at his back and cried his name. She shivered and shook her head to clear it. She cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as she realized she had been caught staring. 

"No, Danse. Everything is fine. We have a mission." She tossed him a can of water and watched as he greedily chugged it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hiding his smirk, and grabbed his shirt from the bench near where she stood. She noted he smelled like sweat, pine, and the distictness of power armour grease.

"Affirmative. What are the details?" He asked, pulling the shirt over his head. She caught one last glance of his dog tags clanging against his flesh, and she wished she could run her hands along every muscle and every sinew along his tanned body one more time. 

"The Glowing Sea. We need intel."

Danse huffed and slammed his locker closed, hanging his head. 

"That's a long trip. Ensure you are prepared, we can't afford any mistakes out there."

"Of course. And Danse?" She called as he brushed past her, heading for the showers. He turned back part way around, but wouldn't meet her gaze.

"What, soldier?" He asked, his tone clipped and his back tense.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're with me on this one."

She didn't hear his mumbled response, but didn't risk saying anything more as he walked to the shower door and it swung closed behind him. 


	15. Chapter 15

This was it.

Jo held the final piece for the molecular relay in her hands, connecting the wires with one great twist of her fingertips, and stepping back to admire her work. She had spent nearly three weeks on this machine. Danse, Ingram, Haylen, Sturges, and even Rhys had assisted with assembling the thing, and now she stared at it with both pride and terror. She knew this was the culmination of months of hard work and self-sacrifice, the realization of her promise to Nate fulfilled. After she stepped into this thing there was no turning back. It would either send her to Institute where she would find Shaun, or fey her brain like a brahmin steak. She didn't want to think of the possibility that it wouldn't work at all; even being eviscerated by it was a preferred outcome.

She looked up at Danse, his brown eyes glowing as he watched her intently. Since the last trip to the Glowing Sea, he had been nearly mute. He only spoke when necessary, offering short, clipped responses. By the time they had returned, Jo had all but given up that he would ever speak to her again, but he surprised her by offering to help build the molecular relay. Now, he seemed as though he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should.

"Well, that's the last thing, according to the blueprints. Thanks for your assistance Paladin."

Danse nodded in response, then stepped closer to her, forcing her to stand or crane her neck to look at him.

"When is your scheduled test run?" He asked curiously.

"There will be no test run, Danse. It will either work or it won't." She answered

"Wait, so you're just going to step into an electrically charged--"

"Yes, that is my plan," she snapped. "It's probably another stupid plan, but it's the only plan. I'm going tomorrow. I already have Maxson's consent. I don't need yours."

He matched her glare with ease, his jaw tensing. She would not back down, he knew, not even if this was an ill-advised plan. Not even if it was sure to fail. Not even if it killed her. He sighed and eased backwards, shifting his feet.

"There has to be another way."

"No, Danse, there isn't! We've been over this. I need to do this. I need to find Shaun. I need to avenge Nate and find a way to destroy this place one and for all. This is my cross to bear. You can either support me in this and try to ease my burden or you can continue being a dick. Either way, I'm not changing my mind!"

"I don't... I don't know why you're in such a hurry to throw your life away." He said solemnly, afraid of the answer.

It was Jo's turn to sigh, and she turned away from the Paladin with her stance defeated and hunched.

"I'm not," she said as she closed her eyes, wanting to believe her own words. "Shaun is a kid, and he doesn't deserve this. No one out there deserves to be kidnapped, or made into synths, or shot because they wandered a little too close to a chrome dome." She turned back to him." Or turned into a super mutant."

He understood. She was doing this as much for him as herself. She wanted to give him the chance to avenge his best friend. She wanted him to see justice as much as she wanted it herself.

"Alright. Just...please... come back alive. I'd hate myself if I let you go and something happened to you."

"Roger that Paladin. Will you be there in the morning to see me off?" She asked, her voice hopeful.

"Of course, soldier," he said with a grin. "I wouldn't miss it."

_______________________

Danse watched as she approached the platform, her mouth a tight line and her eyes nervous. Dawn had come only an hour or so before, and Ingram had been working since then on firing up the engines and testing the electrical output. Everything was set and the last thing to do was for her to use it.

Danse pushed through the crowd, making his way to the front where she stood talking to Quinlan. A few dozen people had turned out to see her off. Some faces he knew, others were new to him. Some were Brotherhood soldiers, others were civilians or Minutemen. So many friends were lining up to say a few words of encouragement or offer well wishes, and everywhere he looked, Danse couldn't find a single person whose face spoke anything other than reverence. There was one face that hadn't appeared, one he had expected to see above all others; Elder Maxson hadn't bothered to attend, which surprised the Paladin, as he was sure Maxson would want to see his future wife off. He grimaced at the thought.

He finally reached her, and Jo grinned, as genuine a smile as he had ever seen from her.

"Danse!" She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. He let out a low chuckle, returning the embrace. "I didn't think you'd really come!" 

Quinlan cleared his throat, and Jo awkwardly dropped her arms to her sides.

"I told you I would, Knight. This is an important day for us all." He offered her his own smile in return. "I brought you a few extra stims. Just in case." He reached around and put them in the pack she wore, taking the opportunity to whisper down to her. "Come back safe, Jo. Promise me." His eyes were pleading with her as he moved away, and she gave a silent nod.

She looked out in the crowd and frowned. Apparently she also noticed the absence of the esteemed Elder. She climbed the steps to the platform and stopped just before reaching the top, turning to the crowd and raising Righteous Authority above her head. 

"Ad victoriam!" She cried before stepping on to the platform and disappearing in a flash of brilliant light.


	16. Chapter 16

Danse paced the perimeter for hours. It was technically his day off, but he couldn't spend it anywhere but here: in the last place he saw her, and hopefully where she would return. Every time he heard a footstep, a crackle of electricity from the enormous machine, or any other noise side from his own stomping power armour, his head would snap up and search for her.

He'd wanted to beg her not to leave. He wanted to convince her that it was too dangerous, that as far as she had come with her training, she was only one woman against an army of synths. The look in her eyes when she chastised him had kept him silent, though now, hours later, he wished he had at least tried. He should have told her the truth: that not a moment went by that she wasn't in his mind, and that he would go through hell so long as she was at the other side. He wanted to tell her he couldn't live without her, that she had somehow become essential to his life in the same way as air or food was. Instead, all he could offer her was his request for her safe journey, and all the love he still held in his heart for her.

Jo had been gone for five hours, and he had to wonder if something had happened. Was she hurt? Was she captured? Was she even still alive? His mind raced through all the possible scenarios, and the worst always seemed likely. The worst part was that if she was hurt, he couldn't get to her to help her, or to even comfort her in her final moments. He shivered at the thought. He grabbed his hair in his hands and tugged, attempting to breathe and calm himself. He never experienced this kind of anxiety before in battle, not even when Jo was hurt in the past. It was the uncertainty that was killing him.

"Top," Rhys called to him. "You're going to wear out the pavement with all that pacing."

Rhys jogged over to him and hand him a bottle of ice cold Gwinnet. Danse thanked him, cracking it open and guzzling it back. Rhys worked on his own beverage and watched Danse carefully, noting how the Paladin would keep glancing at the platform.

"Sir, I know Lahey and I don't see eye to eye on most things, but she shown great progress. She's a capable soldier, and she's smart. She's going to come back." Rhys said as Danse stopped his pacing and gaped at him.

"I'm aware of Knight Lahey's capabilities, Rhys. My question is, where is this coming from?"

Rhys paled at the question, unsure whether he was walking into a trap or divulging a secret he had no right to, and fidgeted with the beer cap in his hand.

"I just mean... I mean, I know is none of my business, but it's pretty obvious how you feel about her. I just wanted to reassure you that she'll return, in case there was ever any doubt."

Danse's face softened at that.

"I appreciate that, Knight," he said quietly, sipping his beer and watching the platform once more. He thought for a moment and turned back to his comrade. "Is it that obvious?"

Rhys let out a heart chuckle. "Top, you look at her the same way I look at... someone else..." he trailed off.

"Scribe Haylen." It wasn't a question, but Rhys nodded anyway. "Something happened between the two of you, I assume?"

Rhys shook his head slowly, letting out a slow breath. "Nah. She tried to talk to me about it, but I was worried that having anything with her would slow my career. I regret it though. Sometimes I wish I could go back and say something different, give it a chance, even if it meant giving up all this. It's been too long now. I lost that shot."

Danse nodded firmly and again checked the platform. "I don't know that it's too late for you too. Hope both still young and have promising careers. You've also both our in your time so I'm sure honorable discharge is likely, soothe you wish it." He paused, deep in thought. "It's complicated for me. A superior is prohibited from fraternizing with a subordinate. Elder Maxson has seen to it that Knight Lahey and I will never happen."

"All due respect to Elder Maxson, sir, but that's not right. It should be her choice, shouldn't it?" Rhys asked, clearly agitated.

"Agreed, however her choice puts us both in danger of the Elder's wrath, so we would need to disappear in order for that to happen. Besides, I don't think she feels the same for me, and I am not willing to leave the Brotherhood, no matter where this could lead."

Rhys didn't say admitting more, but clapped a hand on Danse's shoulder and gave him a pitying look before leaving him to resume his worrying. Danse's legs were starting to feel stiff, so he opted to sit down rather than risking the pain later; the dirty and torn chairs that occupied the airport were the perfect spot to keep an eye out. He wasn't anticipating that the heavy rain outside would lull him to sleep, nor that his split second lapse in vigilance would alter his current course so profoundly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the process of moving my dears, so I'm sorry I've kept you waiting!


	17. Chapter 17

It was seventy hours later, at precisely 3 o'clock in the morning, when Jo transported back through the molecular relay and reappeared. The airport was dark and eerily quiet, save for the spotlights and the clanging of power armour as guards did their evening rounds. No one greeted her except for the chirping insects that haunted the Commonwealth darkness, singing their unknown hymns to a diety long since forgotten by mankind.

Jo felt her knees weaken at the sudden stillness after nearly three days of constant conversation, be it from synths or humans. She didn't realize how much she missed the quiet that came just before dawn. Her hands felt at the rubble under her knees as she wept, the dust leaving trails of pale skin in the gray that now covered them. She sobbed so heavily that she shook and gagged, and she drove her hands into the loose stones and dirt in an effort to hide the evidence of her tears.

Suddenly there was a presence beside her, comforting her in her grief with a steady hand on her shoulder. She looked up quickly and saw it was Danse. A worried frown was etched on his face, and his eyes were warm and showed a sincerity she'd only seen once before. She didn't need to guess what that look meant.

_I'm here._

She dove into his arms and wept into his chest as he rubbed small circles into her back. He didn't say a word, but held her like that for a long time, until her tears turned to whimpers and her body relaxed against his. He ran his fingers through her strikingly clean hair, marveling at the softness between his fingers. He wiped the tears from her cheeks but kept her against him far longer than he needed to as he enjoyed the intimacy of this moment. Decorum could go to hell.

They stayed like that for a long time, snuggled together in the fallout over two centuries old. Danse looked down at her and realized she had fallen asleep, her long eyelashes casting shadows across her cheeks as the sun came up over the horizon. He carefully picked her up and carried her small frame to the vertibird begged climbing aboard himself. He would have Cade check on her immediately, but would let her sleep. She would wake on her own time, and until then he would ensure she was not disturbed. 

___________________________

 

Maxson stomped more than paced across the command deck. Cade didn't flinch, being used to the Elder's tantrums since he was a boy. 

"What do you mean she's in Danse's quarters?"

"Elder Maxson, she's resting. She is suffering from exhaustion, and needs rest.  Who knows what she saw when she was down there?"

"I'm not a fool, Cade. There's likely all sorts of atrocities that she was witness to. She was supposed to report the moment she returned. I should be with her now, not Paladin Danse, and certainly not right before she and I discuss our nuptials. For all I know, that's a synth replacement! Plus, who knows what the Paladin is saying to her!" He emphasized with a forceful punch to the steel walls behind him.

"Sir, while anything is possible, her condition does not warrant much conversation, if any. She's fast asleep, and the Paladin is completing reports. I assure you, everything is fine." Cade said, exasperated. Maxson sighed, realizing he was being childish.

"Fine, fine. Just... just send word when she's awake."

Cade nodded, and Maxson let out a deep sigh, dismissing the Knight-Captain so he could return to his duties. It would be a long day, but as long as Jo was back safely, he could endure it for her sake.

_________________________

Danse watched Jo sleep fitfully, tossing and turning while she called for her son, then Nate, and finally, him. He felt a stab of jealousy at hearing Nate's name on her lips, but it faded the second he heard his own while she dreamt. He wondered if she dreamed of him often, but he was mostly concerned about what was disturbing her sleep now. He brushed a lock of hair away from her nose, a gesture so gentle, it even surprised him. He put down his paperwork and resolved to wipe the sweat from her brow.

She sat up with a slight shout, startling him enough to cause him to jump. She looked around, confused and afraid, but he gently pushed her back into the bed and covered her with sheets. 

"I'm here, Jo. I'm always here, no matter what happens. Just rest. I'll be here if you need me," he told her softly. He didn't know if she heard him, but soon she was quietly slumbering once more.

The scene reminded him of the last time she had lain vulnerable at his side, the first time he voiced aloud his feelings for her. He grimaced at the bittersweet memory. Part of him regretted that he had taken that path and had opened himself up to heartache. The other part, the part that urged him to take her hand in his own and kiss her knuckles, held that as his fondest memory.

Though Danse had known a few women in his life, none had affected him the way Jo had. None had captivated him with a smile and a clumsy reload, and no other had ever made his heart flutter like she did. The way she moaned his name, the way her face snuggled into his chest when he held her close. Her hair tickling his face when the wind caught it, or how she had never judged him, not even when he shared his darkest secrets. The look in her eyes when he told her he loved her, that told of her fear but also of her loneliness. 

He knew he had made a terrible mistake when he let her go, but she would likely never forgive him.

___________________________

Maxson counted the hours until he would be free of meetings so he could visit Jo. He wanted an update on her journey to the Institute, at least that's what he told the others, but really he wanted to check on her. He was concerned for her; her mental state had apparently disconcerting at best when she arrived. That, coupled with his deliberate absence from her departure, had him yearning to look upon her face and know she was safe once more. 

He only half listened to Proctor Tegan ramble about excessive requests for Nuka Cola while listening to afternoon rain hitting the steel roof over his head. He grew agitated and restless, strumming his fingers on the tabletop before standing abruptly and excusing himself. The logistics and politics of command could wait for once, he had more important thing to worry about. 

When he approached Danse's quarters and quietly poked his head in, Arthur was disheartened once more to find Jo's hand in Danse's while the man tenderly touched her face. Maxson felt his blood boil at the sight; heat rose to his cheeks and his hands clenched at his sides. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to tackle and beat the man to death, but instead he opted to return to his duties and carefully consider a plan to keep them apart, or at the very least, a plan of revenge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this chapter so I might fix it later.


	18. Chapter 18

Sunlight slowly crept across the floor when Jo woke-- the first rays of dawn had long passed, and no one had sent for her. The temperature of the room had increased for her comfort at some point while she slept, and an extra blanket was draped across her. She was covered in a cold sweat, beads of perspiration had penetrated her clothes and ran down between her breasts.

The discovery of her stepson being alive was wonderful news, but the truth that he was a sixty year old man and one of the greatest enemies the Brotherhood had ever known was a truth she could live without.

She had poured all of her heart and soul into finding the little boy she loved. It took her some time; the knowledge of Nate's affair hit hard, it had broke her in many ways. She was no longer the naive young girl who fell in love with a soldier, like in the romance novels her mother read. She first was depressed, then bitter. When Nate had come home with a baby in his arms, she had wanted to die. The neighbors would gossip about her, and some would even go so far as to try to convince her to leave him. Her father had disowned her when she married Nate. Her dad had been very religious, and Nate was an atheist, and the two had never had a civil conversation. Her mother was more understanding, but still was not permitted to attend her wedding. Needless to say, when Jo discovered Nate's affair, she had nowhere to turn for help. Instead, her and Nate decided on counseling to overcome his betrayal. Shaun's mother had been killed in the war, and it didn't take too long for Jo to accept him as her own. She couldn't blame Shaun for who his mother had been, but she promised herself she would raise him with better morals than his father. But now, Shaun was his own man. She hadn't raised him, nor watched him grow up. She hadn't been the one to kiss scraped knees or comfort a broken heart. She wondered if he had ever even been in love, or if he had been a heartless bastard his whole life. She had accepted him when he was an infant, but she could never accept what he had done as an adult.

She had invested and sacrificed so much. She had given every bit of herself in the self-imposed mission to find him, and now she had nothing left for herself. Where did one go when they reached the end of a road to the middle of nowhere? She had walked so far; did she even know her way back? Every moment she had spent trying to find him had been for naught. She would have been better off if he was dead. She wouldn't have to kill the boy she swore to protect.

The thought to accept his offer hadn't even crossed her mind. The Institute made life hell for thousands of people, not just her, and she couldn't turn on everyone she had grown to care for. Danse's face flashed in her mind and tears slipped down her face. She sobbed at the unfairness of it all. Caring for a man she met only months ago more than her family? She had become exactly what she hated-- someone who made up their own rules when it was convenient.

The bed springs squeaked beside her, and Danse rubbed her back in a comforting gesture. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and breathed him in-- his scent, so masculine and familiar, grounded her in the present.

"Hey, I've got you," he said, almost in a whisper. "Shh. You're safe now, whatever it is, I have faith you're strong enough to get through it."

Her head snapped up and she pushed him away briskly.

"Get through it?!" She snapped. "Tell me, when do I have to stop pretending to be strong? Before or after I kill the son I never wanted, but learned to love? When I forgive the man I haven't even grieved yet? How about forgiving myself for not seeing him slowly destroying me? And am I really strong enough to tell Maxson the truth after we take out the Institute? 'By the way, I'll never love you, and this whole time you've been waiting for an answer to your marriage proposal while I find my infant stepson.... turns out, I don't have one! Surprise'" She hissed sarcastically. Danse eyed her, annoyed but sympathetic, but then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"Wait, you haven't given him an answer? And your son... he's....?"

She seemed to shrink then, covering her face with her hands. She still couldn't put words to what she felt for him. 

"Shaun is... and you, I was buying time, hoping you'd change your mind." She replied, wringing the sheets in her hands. He sighed quietly and pulled further away. 

"You know I can't, Jo. My destiny is here, whatever it may hold. But if you need to leave... I understand. I don't like it, but I can't stop you. I don't know what I'll do without you. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you."

"Then come with me! I know you think you have a duty to these people--to Maxson-- but you've done so much for them, Danse. You don't need to stay if you don't want to."

He stiffened his posture and set his jaw. She knew she had crossed a line this time, but she just couldn't see what was holding him here, making him stay when Maxson wouldn't let him make his own choices about his career, or his personal life. To her, the choice was clear.

"Have you never felt a sense of duty to anything outside of yourself?" He snapped. "Have you never felt the kinship with your comrades after they put their lives on the line for you? Or maybe you're determined to live alone for whatever time you have left? I plan to make something of my life,  _Knight,_ and I know I can't do it alone. Maybe you should think about that, because I'm not leaving!"

Danse watched her bottom lip quiver, though the tears he waited for never came. She smiled a sad smile, letting her walls down for an instant so he could see her heartbreak, before putting them up again as her face went stoic.

"I did feel a kinship with you, Richard. I knew you had my back, and I had yours," she said somberly, looking away so he couldn't see the pain in her eyes. "I wish you luck; I'll be back in a week to collect my personal effects, and then I'm leaving for good. I ask that you hold off on telling Maxson until then."

"You're going to let what happened between us be the deciding factor on abandoning your post?" He sneered. She wanted to scream at him, to make him understand that her pain ran so much deeper than him, but she couldn't tell him about Shaun, not now. 

"No, Paladin," she said softly, her back to him. "Not everything is about you. My mission is complete and I'm free to help others in whatever capacity I can; I don't need the Brotherhood for that. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be, that I couldn't give you what you gave me." She turned back to him, her hand on the doorknob. "Goodbye, Danse. Ad victorium."   


	19. Chapter 19

She had given the tape to Maxson shortly before she left, slipping off the Prydwen without any other goodbyes. Maxson was oblivious to the fact she was leaving, and Danse wanted to smirk at the secret he was privy to but which had been kept from the Elder. He knew Maxson was going to make his life hell once he found out, by for now, Danse had her trust, and he wouldn't abuse it. 

That night he lay on his bunk, unable to sleep and thinking about Jo. He knew she wouldn't come back, and his heart ached at the familiar feeling of loss. He wondered where she was, and if she thought of him. He wondered how long it would be before she forgot him. Before she moved on to someone else. As long as it was anyone other than Maxson, he was satisfied. Preston, maybe, he was kind and had some form of common sense, though he was a bit too sensitive. MacCready was too annoying for her, he knew that much. He didn't have to worry about the ghoul, so that left Deacon. He nodded once to himself, hoping she would have the smarts to stick with Deacon. The man idolized Jo, and though he was constantly sarcastic, he never lied when it mattered, at least not to her. 

A knock at the door startled him out of his misery. He sighed and tossed on his sweatpants quickly and the on a pain white t-shirt. He imagined it must have been close to three in the morning-- why would anyone bother him at this late hour? He thought of ignoring it, but the thoughts of all the terrible things that could have happened to her flooded his mind and he pushed himself off the cot with a noisy squeak of the springs. 

"Paladin!" Haylen hissed. "Open up, it's urgent!" 

Danse pulled open the door and gestured for her to come inside. Instead, she grabbed his flight jacket off the crooked coat rack and tugged on his arm. "I'll explain when we get on the ground, but you have to come with me right now!"

Danse nodded. "Let me fetch my power armour and I'll be right behind you. "

"I'm sorry sir, there's no time! Hurry!"

Danse's heart beat against his ribcage, and he quickened his pace to keep up. Haylen seemed nervous, paranoid even. He began to really worry about Jo then, frantic that Haylen wouldn't speak about it or allow him to adequately prepare. 

"Scribe!" Danse barked once they were safely aboard the vertibird. "I demand to know: has anything happened to Knight Lahey?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. I promise I'll tell you everything once we land." Haylen spoke coordinates into the pilot's ear, her face a mask that he couldn't read. All he knew was that she was acting increasingly jumpy, and this bothered him. Haylen was normally so cheerful; this was such a dramatic change that Danse knew something serious used happened. Was the Elder alright? Was the police station being attacked? He felt slightly better knowing that Jo wasn't involved, but his gut told him something terrible had happened. 

"Alright," Haylen said as they landed. "We go the rest of the way on foot. We'll make camp at a nearby cabin to the south and resume our trek at dawn." She thanked the pilots and dismissed them curtly.

The vertibird took flight and Danse walked alongside her in apprehension. Haylen wouldn't let him use a flashlight, much to his annoyance. The minutes passed as they made their way through the dark, fumbling over downed logs or rusted metal. Occasionally, Haylen would flick on her compass to get her bearings, then they'd be off again. 

"How far south is this cabin? It is rather unwise to journey at night, Scribe. There are so many safety hazards to consider: tetanus, broken bones, ghouls, supermutants, deathclaws, falling into a lake of radioactive waste--"

"You'll see the radioactive waste before we fall in, sir. Besides, we're not going south. We're going north."

He raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't tell anyway. "Is there a particular reason why you lied to me, scribe?"

"I assure you sir, I only lied to keep anyone of our trail. This location is classified, and needs to be kept that way."

Danse grumbled under his breath. He began to see the lightening of the horizon, a sign the darkest time of night was already behind them. He let out a huff and continued. The fact that the location had to be kept hidden from his brothers in arms made  _him_ nervous and paranoid now. He couldn't go back, and being in the Commonwealth at night without shelter or backup was foolish. The only way safe decision was forward. 

They reached the location when the sun was well over the horizon line, so Danse assumed the time was near 1200 hours. He was tired, sweaty, and felt completely naked without his power armour. Though the metal would have protected him in a worse case scenario, there was always some resistance against one's muscles, and he would have been exhausted long before they arrived at their destination. 

"This place should be secure, sir. I found it when we first arrived in the Commonwealth," she explained as she disarmed the security and entered the access code. "As there was no technology, I just enjoyed the historical significance of it. This was a listening post during the great War."

She led him into a dark, concrete bunker, and he followed her to an old elevator. 

"Scribe, if we've arrived, I'm really interested to know what this is all about." He said as they stepped into the elevator. Haylen fidgeted in the corner, digging the top of her boot into invisible dirt. 

"Well sir," she explained finally, "Knight Lahey uncovered some very important archives, and I think it's important that you see fit yourself."

"We came all the way here for you to tell me what you could have told me on the Prydwen?" He demanded. 

"Sir.... I managed to retrieve the holotape that Knight Lahey brought from the Institute. You should listen for yourself. I'd advise you to rest first, but I know you won't. "

Danse nodded and accepted the holotape as the doors squeaked open to reveal a crumbling ruin. He pulled out an overturned chair and switched the recorder on. The static came to life and a few muffled voices could be heard. 

_'Director's log 86742. All attempts to apprehend M7-97 have been unsuccessful thus far. It would appear that we have a traitor among us; someone on the inside had to arrange for transport, a new identity, and reintegration into the population above ground. I have heard stories of an organization that helps synths escape, and I am convinced that this is more than a coincidence. All attempts to find them, however, have been unsuccessful thus far._

_I am concerned about the damage M7-97 could potentially unleash amongst the population on the surface. As dirty, undisciplined, and violent as they are, I'm certain that it has the ability to decimate entire settlement.  It was my first had great work: the epitome of a super soldier. I regret that we will need to wipe its memory and start is training again, as there's no guarantee the synth will benefit from the training as well as it did the first time. Perhaps Dr. Benet will have an idea on how to reconnect the synapses of the grey matter in order to facilitate a better, more stable connection to the implant._

_We also have to consider that M7-97 is now, ironically, a member of the "Brotherhood of Steel," thanks to the aforementioned organization named the Railroad. While these men and women in the Brotherhood are a joke in their level of technological sophistication, they do possess heavy firepower and numerous expendable bodies, whereas I value the lives of everyone at the Institute. While M7-94 may be useful for obtaining information on the strengths and weaknesses of a potentially large threat for us, knowing exactly when enough intel is enough is difficult to predict since we have no contact at this time. Not to mention, we have no way of knowing where he will be at any given time. This is indeed a delicate situation._

_Unfortuneately, I had activated the prototype reproductive hormones before its escape. While it would be interesting to see if the unit will attempt to mate and reproduce on its own, I am not willing to unleash more super soldiers into the world until they are thoroughly tested. The dream of occupying the surface in order to save it is almost realized-- I will not allow one synth to destroy it._

_The human Richard Danse has consented to allowing us to obtain more samples._ _I have saved and attached the data from his DNA scan to this audio log._ _This soldier, though once our enemy, has become my greatest asset. It is because he is so involved in Project Overseer that I am able to resume my research into the child- parent relationship dynamic, and have been able to produce an exact synth replica of my childhood self. This bond between parent and child, however, has been difficult to reproduce, and my health is impacting my work on an ongoing basis. I believe it may be time to consider my successor. Yes, perhaps it is."_

Danse turned off the audio log and sat in silence for a moment, trying to wrap his had around what he had heard. Haylen gave him space and watched him cautiously, as though he were a rabid mongrel posed to attack. He threw the holotape player across the bed and shook his ha in disbelief. 

"This has to be a mistake. I don't understand-- this is what Jo brought back from the Institute? How do we know this is legitimate and wasn't placed amongst her things while she was there?"

"We don't know anything for sure, sir. But Quinlan ran the DNA that was attached, and the results computed throughout the night. I checked them as soon as they were ready, and they are a match to you own. I couldn't stand back and watch Maxson execute you, synth or not, you're my friend," she offered him a reassuring smile, though he was not moved. 

"I am not a Synth!" Danse forced every word through a clenched jaw, his body shaking. 

"Danse, either way, please. Stay here for now. You're safe here. I'll get in contact with Jo and--"

"No!" Danse shouted. "You can't tell her anything. I know you're only trying to help Haylen, but please don't. I don't want to tarnish her view of me even further. I'll stay here if it makes you happy, but keep Jo as far away from me as you can. I don't want to screw up her life even more."

"Danse,  you can't--:

"Haylen, enough! If I am a synth, I need to get away from everyone I can endanger! If I'm not, I need time to think about my course of action. Either way, Knight Lahey left the Brotherhood, and I will respect her choice and not drag her into this! This is my problem, not hers, and not yours!"

"Danse, I just want to help you. I know this is not my problem, but I'm your friend and I care about you!"

"Well you shouldn't! If I'm a goddamned abomination, I don't deserve, nor can I reciprocate, your friendship. And if I'm not a synth, I'm going to be executed as one soon enough anyway. Save yourself the grief, Haylen. Just go, leave me to my thoughts." 

Danse didn't turn to look at her. He waited with his back to hear for several minutes, his shoulders hunched in anguish as he thought about the expression on her face. He imagined the way her eyes would narrow in disappointment: just another comrade he let down. But he wasn't her comrade anymore. The Brotherhood- the only family he had evert known- had labeled him a traitor. Though he couldn't help what he was one way or another, he would never betray them, at least not intentionally. He knew he was a threat just by existing, and that he could endanger them at any given moment. 

He didn't deserve a friend like her. He didn't deserve anyone. 

He turned back to where she had been standing to apologize one last time, but found he was alone, just as he had wanted. Though he was relieved, some part of him screamed for comfort that he knew he didn't deserve. He knew deep down that the data was correct. His memories had been missing important pieces. His life before the Brotherhood was blurry. He remembered Cutler, the brother he never had. Was it a memory? Had he ever even known him, or was the man's memory implanted in his brain by corrupt scientists? He didn't remember parents or siblings. He didn't remember having lived in a house, or anything from his younger years. He wondered when they apprehended the original Paladin Danse, and how. Was his death painful? Did he leave behind a family? A lover? 

He thought of Jo then. He had been so demanding of her, wanting all of her affections and willing to give up nothing in return. Was he programmed to fall in love?  Or did that portion of his brain still function on its own? He was sure the Institute bastards wouldn't risk a synth having to put someone above them. How would Jo react when she found out? Would she be disgusted that she allowed him to touch her? Would she be angry, wanting to put a bullet in his head? Would she be afraid that he would find her and hurt her? Would she be saddened by the news, or happy that she didn't have to feel guilty for leaving him? Would she run back to Maxson now that she knew? She was on a level so far above him, and she deserved everything a man like Maxson could give her: power, love, stability, a future. She was better off without him. 

He felt his heart break all over again. The thought of any one of those scenarios made him wish he was dead. Wherever she was, she was far away and safe from him. That was the only solace he could find in his pain, but it didn't stop the geyser of tears that erupted from him at his anger of loss. He would make this his punishment, the only kind fitting enough for am abomination like him: the bittersweet memories of a life that was but wasn't ever his. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. I can't believe that they wrote Rhys as such a one dimensional character. He's an ass, but how did he get that way? Obviously the wasteland, but lots of people survive and aren't total dicks.

Haylen's thoughts were eating at her. The guilt of allowing Danse time to wallow in his thoughts was wearing on her. A good friend would have stayed, but she felt she owed it to him to grant him this one request. But when days turned into weeks and he still would not leave, she grew worried. 

It didn't take long for the news to spread that the decorated soldier was, in fact, their enemy. Maxson had sent out numerous manhunts, even offered a generous reward for Danse's capture, but no one was able to find him. As long as Haylen had anything to say about it, it would continue to stay that way. 

Reese had become withdrawn and distant, separating himself from his comrades as much as possible. It was obvious that his superior's secret and disappearance affected him deeply, but no one some of such things. Everyone was too ashamed to admit they were saddened by the news, because that meant admitting that they had admired and respected a synth. 

Haylen pulled him aside on the forecastle one evening after muster, hoping to get a feel for where his head was. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, and his body was more tense than usual. 

"Ok Reese, what's going on?" She demanded sternly. He glowered at the darkening sky in the distance, a green cloud rolling in with a radstorm. 

"I'm fine, Jess." He replied, rolling his shoulders and trying to hide his unease. 

"That's bullshit and you know it. I've known you long enough to know that something is bothering you."

He gazed out over the Commonwealth in silence, watching the bright flashes of explosions in the distance below him.

"I don't know... I guess this whole thing with Top... the synth... I don't know. I feel like an idiot for not knowing. It just seemed so... real." His voice was tired, sorrowful, contemplative. 

"He was, Reese. He was your friend, and you cared about him. You can't blame yourself for that. We can't help who comes into our lives, or how they will affect us."

Her voice was soft, and her face relaxed. He could count the freckles on her cheeks with the dimming sunlight. He could just make out a small scar over the left side of her nose, and suddenly wanted to trace his fingers over it. He remembered his talk with Danse and paled. How could a synth understand him on a level deep enough to know what he wanted most? Was it just luck that it guessed how he felt about the scribe, or did it truly have empathy?

Reese realized he was staring and blushed.  

"Yeah...well. I guess that's true," he said as he brushed a rogue lock of strawberry blonde off her cheek. She stilled at his touch, shocked but unafraid. Her eyes were filled with longing and he leaned forward slightly to kiss her, but stopped halfway. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and hopeful, but when she understood his hesitation she nodded once and slipped away without a word. 

Reese stood on the empty forecastle, alone but for his thoughts. His jaw clenched in anger, not at Haylen, but at himself in his weakness. He hadn't known the touch of a woman since he joined the Brotherhood seven years before. His oath was as clear as the day he made it: atonement above all else. And in the Brotherhood, he was finding his atonement. 

He was seventeen when he proposed to Alisha. She had been his childhood sweetheart, his constant companion since they were kids. He couldn't remember exactly when her parents had died, by she came to live with him and his mother then. God, he loved her. She was soft-spoken and sweet, where he was loud and vulgar. She was light-hearted where he was serious. She was shy where he was outgoing. But the one thing they had in common was their loyalty to each other. 

He'd given her his mother's engagement ring, just a simple gold band with a lone pearl, chipped and worn. It wasn't worth much, but it was an heirloom since before the Great War. If he hadn't given her that stupid ring, she might still be alive. She'd gone back to retrieve it from its hiding space a day after raiders hit their settlement, slipping out while he started bringing in the harvest.

It was three days before the ransom note came. He tried to find the money, then the hideout, but came up empty handed. At four days the first bloody finger arrived, complete with her last message to him: _I'm sorry, James, forgive me. Please come get me, I'm scared._

He found out later that they had abused her before they killed her. They violated her in ways he couldn't ever repeat, then brutalized and tortured her. He had been too stupid to find them, and too weak to fight them if he had. He wanted a life with Alisha: a family, a farm to call their own, maybe even grandkids someday. But he never had that chance. The gang of raiders that took her was led by a powerful and well-connected synth, the first of any he'd ever heard of. He swore that day-- to himself and to Alisha-- that he would make himself strong enough to rid the world of abominations like that. He might not have been strong enough, but he would be. He might not have been able to find the synth responsible, but he would take out as many as he could until he destroyed them all. He couldn't allow anyone else to suffer as Alisha had. 

It was fit these reasons that he pushed everyone away. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted from his mission. He didn't need friends; friend were only people who could become liabilities or those who make one complacent in their life. He didn't need lovers; lovers would try to make him forget Alisha's voice, or the way she smiled from ear to ear just for him. Except he'd long ago forgotten her face, and her voice only haunted his dreams.

Now it was Haylen's smile he was forgetting, because her face had grown sad and weary. Her teasing had become resolute, and even her friendly salutations had become colder. He realized with a lump in his throat that she was right: he couldn't control that she has entered his life, or how he reacted to her presence. He missed her-- all the comraderie, the affection she gave him even when his pride pushed her away, even just the sound of her sleeping near him while they camped on patrol. He couldn't think of a life where he didn't have those things once more. 

Rhys the open the steel door, hard enough that it crashed into the railing with a loud clang, and ran after her. He found her in the mess, fighting with the vending machine. He slammed his first against its side, allowing the snack cakes to tumble down for her to retrieve, and she jumped. Instead of bending down to grab the treats, she watched him cautiously, seemingly expecting his rage. Instead of the rant she was anticipating, Rhys pushed her against the vending machine, and without a car for who might be watching, crashed his lips on to hers. She let out a small whimper, and Rhys pulled away nervously. Instead of chastising him, she kissed him again deeply while the recruits whistled and cat-called.

Rhys realized: this moment, the one he spent so long running from, was as much a party of his atonement as his training. Learning to trust another person was a more difficult test of strength than any training course. 


	21. Chapter 21

Jo stormed the bridge of the Prydwen, fueled by her concern after hearing Haylen's troubled voice over the radio. She'd been putting off returning here; part of her was waiting and hoping Danse would change his mind, but the other half was haunted by the pain of rejection and indifference. She knew Danse was dutiful to the Brotherhood, but the fact he was loyal to the point he wouldn't even consider joining her devastated her. Just the thought of seeing him again made her heart beat excitedly against her ribs, but she didn't know if it was out of fear at seeing him again and ruining the little recovery her heart had made in these past few weeks, or missing his presence altogether.

She told herself that it was over, whatever they had. She tried to convince herself she never cared for him. She even went so far as to tell herself that he only wanted her when he coyote keep her a secret. Now she was discarded, cat aside and broken. If she never met him, would she have been able to love Arthur? Would she have felt the gnawing conflict in her bosom every time she saw them together? She couldn't lie to herself anymore, she had been so close to falling for Arthur Maxson-- his strength and resolve in the face of danger, his gentleness reserved just for her, the way he whispered he loved her like she was the only one that mattered. But Maxson had another side: cruel, manipulative, angry. Those parts of him might have destroyed her. But Danse beat him to it.

Haylen was nowhere to be found. The scribe was not at her usual perches, nor was she in medbay. Her name didn't appear on the duty roster for the airport, or for patrol. She wondered where her friend would be and prayed she wasn't in any sort of danger.

"Knight Lahey," a man's voice called out to her. She turned and saw it was Rhys and raised an eyebrow. Gone was his usual scowl and accompanying harsh words. His face was calm, if nervous. "I was told to send you to the bridge the moment you returned."

"Oh...ok. Thank you, Knight Rhys." Jo said awkwardly.

"A warning, Lahey. Elder Maxson is not in the greatest of moods. Keep that in mind," he advised, his tone not dripping its usual venom.

"Uhhh... right. Noted. Thanks."

Rhys nodded briefly to her as if their brief conversation was physically difficult, and Jo turned to face Maxson one last time before she would depart the Prydwen for good. Each step was a hurdle, each hallway seemed to scream at her to leave. How could she tell him she was leaving? No matter what she said, it would kill him. She ran every scenario through her mind as she founded the steps to his quarters, rehearsing the gentlest let downs her mind could create. She had hoped to get her stuff and slip out with him being none the wiser, but she should have known better. Arthur knew every soldier on his airship, down to the newest recruit, and knew where they were at all times. He woke up before dawn each day to read reports and gain insight into his subordinates, and Jo had no doubt he read all their background information personally. 

She stopped outside the door and breathed deeply. She realized her hands were shaking and shook them violently at her sides to rid herself of her anxiety. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing before knocking lightly on the cold steel door, the same door she had been pressed against long ago. 

"Enter," Maxson barked from within. The door squeaked noisily as Jo payed it open, but Arthur didn't lift his eyes from his report. When she didn't speak first, he huffed at her, eyes still on his work. "What is it?"

She cleared her throat and shifted on her feet. "You asked to see me?"

Arthur's furious pen stooped scribbling and he slowly looked up. He didn't say a word, but rose from his chair, seemingly in a daze, and rested his knuckles on the scratched desk. His face betrayed his heartache: his eyebrows furrowed in a mix of sadness and disappointment, his eyes creased at the corners in anger, and his mouth downturned in contempt. 

"Where we're you?" He said, his voice shaking, but whether he was holding back tears or rage, Jo was unsure.

"I was traveling between settlements, chasing a lead. Is something wrong?"

"You were... traveling? You disappear for weeks with no word..." he trailed off. "Traveling." He shook his head as though he were trying to clear it. "Is there anything you wish to tell me,  _Knight?"_

"Excuse me?"

"I find it hard to believe you didn't know. All that time you spent..."

"Didn't know what?" She was genuinely confused now. First she thought he might have discovered that she was leaving, but now she was lost in what he was ring to say. He cleared his throat and moved closer to her, stopping an arms length away, but never reaching for her. It was so unlike him to be cold and unfamiliar towards her. Her gut told her to be wary. 

"The holotape you retrieved from the Institute was a series of DNA codes for escaped synths. We ran these sequences against Brotherhood records-- first against suspected synths in the Commonwealth, then against medical records of our own personel. The DNA belonging to synth designation M7-97 matches that of Paladin Richard Danse."

The news hit her like a punch to the stomach. She stumbled back, but Arthur's am reached out to catch greet before she could fall. Instead of steadying her on her feet, he pulled her close to him, gripping her forearms in his massive hands and shaking her. 

"I know you were close! Dammit, Josephine! Tell me the truth!"

"I swear, Arthur! I didn't know! Do you think he would just tell me something like that?"

"How the hell should I know? You two are close! Closer than a Paladin and recruit have any right to be!" 

"Let me go, Arthur! You're hurting me! I told you I didn't know! How could you forget that you're even higher up the chain than Danse was, and you and I were 'close' too!"

"You're mine!" He roared. "That _thing_ had no business being so close to my woman!" Maxson's face was nearly purple with rage, and Jo could feel his hands squeeze tighter. Her only hope to diffuse the situation was to let him think he'd won. 

"Arthur, please. I swear I didn't know, but you're right: I'm yours. But if you want to keep me, you have to start trusting me. We can't start our marriage off with jealousy and accusations."

His face softened and he released her forearms, and pulled her into an embrace instead. "You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Does this mean...?"

"Yes, Arthur, I want to marry you, but not yet. Soon. I just can't be trapped in a union where I'm not trusted completely." Jo hoped her words would pacify Arthur enough that he would let her leave. 

"No, of course not. I'm sorry Jo, truly. I love you, and I trust you more than anyone. I want you to trust me too. In fact, right now I have a task only you can complete. You won't like it, but you're the only one who can do it."

"Alright," she gave a half-hearted smile. "It's a good start. Tell me what it is and I'll see to it as soon as I gather some things."

He nodded gravely. "Knight, I am entrusting you to locate the synth posing as Paladin Danse and terminate it." He ordered. Her eyes went wide with shock, not expecting that he would order the death of his best friend and marksman. Jo stared at him in disbelief, her brain refusing to process his words. 

"Arthur... you can't mean that. Danse was your friend!"

"No, Josephine, that _thing_  is my enemy. _Our_  enemy. It inflated our home, pretended to behave like a soldier, and had been given access to very sensitive information. Classified information. I can't take the risk of it exposing any weakness to its masters. It must be destroyed."

"Well, I won't be the one to do it. Find another lackey."

"Knight, I'm giving you a direct order!"

"Arthur, you can't just decide when it's convenient that I'm a soldier or the woman you love. You can't ask me to kill my mentor... my best friend. I can't do it, even if I wanted to."

"You _will_ do it, Josephine. I will not have loyalties divided in the Brotherhood. If you can't, I'll find someone who will, and they will not grant it a painless death. This is a mercy; it is because of my love for you that I am issuing you this task. If it weren't for that, it would be strung up by its ankles and sawed in half from its crotch to its head, with its remains deposited for the Institute to find as a lesson. I cannot offer mercy to Institute agents, but you can. You must accept this task."

He tried to reach for her to show her that he was still the same Arthur he had always been. He was a leader chosen far too young, to accept a fate far too unforgiving. This was not the life he had chosen for himself, but now he wanted her to choose it where he could not. He wanted her to accept the life he hated.

She jerked her hand away. Danse's life depended on her to keep her cool. She couldn't accept too eagerly, however, or Maxson would suspect her plan.

"Very well,  _Elder._  I will accept this mission, though I don't like it. Just know I am only doing this so he doesn't suffer." 

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Maxson to realize his greatest mistake. 


	22. Chapter 22

"Lahey! Your not seriously going to execute Danse, are you?" Haylen demanded to know, half terrified of her response, the other half chastising herself for such a stupid question.

"Haylen." Jo's voice cracked with emotion. She pulled her to the nearest alcove, watching for passersby as she did. "I need to find him...I can't let anything happen to him. Maxson isn't the man I knew; he's so consumed with jealousy and hate! He'll stop at nothing to make shut Danse is dead. I can't let that happen!"

Haylen sighed in obvious relief.

"I can help, but you need to swear tome that you'll take Danse and get out of the Commonwealth. Both of you."

"I swear! Just tell me where he is!" Jo whispered frantically. Haylen nodded and revealed the coordinates where Danse could be found. "Jess, you should consider leaving too. You're better than this. Maxson had changed the Brotherhood, and is not for the better."

"I know, " she nodded grimly. "But I can't leave Rhys. He's all I have. But I promise, if I can convince him to leave, I'll find you. Now please, hurry. Danse wasn't in the best mental state when I left."

Jo nodded quickly and ran for the waiting vertibird. The take off and flight were a blur, and he mind raced with all the newfound information. Was synth-Danse the one she gave her heart and body to? Did it matter to her that his body was born in a lab, or that his brain was basically a computer? When did the man end and the machine begin? Which Danse did she fall in love with?

She decided it didn't matter. She wasn't going to risk losing him over semantics. He had a computer component in his brain that gave him memories. So what? The brain was basically a computer anyway. His body was a clone of a human being. Big deal. He was flesh and blood when he bled, and if he had wiring, she'd never seen any. To her, he was human. She knew he took all the burdens of his team and made them his own, and she worried how he would bear this one. Inside, she assured for him.

She didn't even think when she took out the turrets, or the Protectron. He must be afraid --terrified--, though whether of the Institute or the Brotherhood, she had no idea. She spent not a thought on her own feelings for either organization, and instead ventured into the dark bunker.

She found him there, sitting on a tattered mattress, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He didn't hear her come in, or had accepted that he was about to die. Either way he didn't look up, one hand tightly gripping his hair, the other loosely holding a laser rifle. Everything inside Jo told her to approach him like a frightened animal.

"Danse?" She called softly, trying not to startle him. He didn't look up, but she heard him  mumble and a sharp intake of breath. 

"I had hoped he would send someone else. Does he even want me alive?"

Jo couldn't stand there for another second. She ran to him and collapsed at his feet, grabbing his face in her hands. 

"Oh, Richard. Please, please look at me." He slowly raised his eyes to hers, and she saw they were red and swollen. "I'm not going to hand you over to Maxson, you can forget about that." She smiled weakly, a smile he didn't return.

"You have to, it's your duty. I'm an abomination. The very thing I hate: technology that has gone too far. I'm ready, Jo, I've accepted my fate. Please, don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be. I need to be the escape of what happens to synths so that the Institute doesn't infiltrate the Brotherhood and destroy everything I love." He told her as she tried to speak over him.

Finally she had enough and raised her voice. "No, Danse! Listen to yourself! Are you giving up? All those times you had my back and made me go on, and now you're going to give up? No, we're leaving. Pack your shit, whatever is left. We're not wasting another minute in this place. I'm not turning you over, and I sure as hell am not going to be the one to kill you."

"Jo...I don't know who I am anymore. In not safe to be around. What if I hurt you one day? That's not a risk in willing to take. You're human, I'm...a synth. A machine. I don't deserve to live."

"Yes, you do. I've never known as gentle a soul as you, Richard. You're my best friend, and you've taught me how to be strong, and how to be vulnerable. I don't want to imagine a life where you're not by my side, and if that means I need to leave the Commonwealth, then that's what I'll do."

"I'm not worthy of you, Josephine. You deserve a real man, one who can love you. What I feel for you .... it's faulty programming. It has to be. Synths aren't programmed to love, which makes it all the more likely that I'm faulty and can hurt you. I'm not worth the risk."

 She ran her thumbs over the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the way his facial hair pricked her skin as his words pricked her heart. She couldn't let him go on thinking these things; she needed to tell him. 

"You're worth everything to me, " she blushed. 

He was quiet for a long moment, and stopped pushing her away. He studied her eyes with uncertainty etched in his features. 

"Are you saying you're in love with me?" He asked, bewildered. 

"I'm saying I'm madly, deeply in love with you."

He sat back, his eyes confused but less saddened. "How-- I'm not even human," he muttered.

Jo paced her hand over his heart.

"Richard," she said her eyes never leaving his. "I feel your heart beating. I hear your breath as you breathe. But even if you had a clockwork heart, you helped heal mine. I love you, whether your insides are flesh or steel. No one else in this world has a heart like yours, both gentle and strong in the perfect amounts. You are what I wish I could be: loyal, kind, and compassionate. These are human traits, not those of a machine, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they'll have to answer to me. I can't do this without you, and I don't even want to try."

Danse pulled her tight to his chest and wept into her hair. She rubbed small circles on his back in a comforting gesture as his whole body trembled against her. Time passed and eventually his tears stopped falling, but they remained in each other's embrace for a long while afterwards. She sat in his lap and traced the shape of his fingers with her own, giving him the choice to speak or remain silent, and listened to his very real heart beat under her ear. 

"I've lost everything that was important to me, but you're still by my side. This does not seem to be a wise choice. I have nothing to offer you: I have no home, no job, no family. I don't even know if any of my memories are my own or if they were fabricated. I have to leave the Commonwealth, and I can't ask you to leave everything behind for me, Jo. I don't know who I am,  or if I'm able to live or if this is faulty programming that could leave you getting hurt. Are you sure this is the kind of life you want? To be constantly afraid? To never belong in the outside world, to never have a home?"

He refused to meet her eyes, and it was clear he was trying to steel himself for her inevitable rejection. She pitied him then, knowing he had zero self esteem left. She softly ran her hands through his hair and raked them across his forehead. 

"Oh honey... no. You've got it all wrong. Home is wherever _you_ are. Since I woke up, the only time I'm not afraid or lonely is when you're there. I know a place we can go where we'll be off the radar, and Maxson will never know. The rest of the world can go to hell. I don't need their approval, and I'm not asking for it. Please, just trust me."

Danse sighed and kissed her softly, savoring the warmth of her lips and the sweetness of her tongue.

"I do. With my life," he promised. 


	23. Chapter 23

Jo had been in the bunker for quite some time. Arthur Maxson stood on the low hill, watching the bunker for any sign of life. Perhaps this task was asking too much of her. Perhaps she couldn't bear to leave the body of her close friend. Or maybe she was stitching herself up. The thought sent a shiver down Maxson's spine. He hated to imagine that that  _thing_ had hurt her. If, for some reason, Danse emerged from the bunker instead of Jo, he wouldn't hesitate to destroy it. Danse was, after all, a more seasoned fighter. If Jo had the element of surprise, Maxson had no doubt she would put it down. If it was prepared for her... 

No. He wouldn't think about that.  _Couldn't_ think about that. This would be the last time he let sentimentality dictate his orders. From then on, he would ensure mercy was not a deciding factor in his decisions, and never again would he assign these dangerous missions to Jo. He couldn't lose her, not like this.

While he waited, his mind wandered. Puffs of cigarette smoke encircled his solemn face as he imagined the future he wanted for himself and Jo. The Council would be against this union at first, but would come around in time. He would sway them, and see to it that they were married immediately after the Institute was destroyed. She would likely have to undergo intensive training into the litany, but she was so intelligent, he had to doubt she would pass with flying colors. After she was trained to be his replacement in case of his death, they would start trying for kids. He smiled as he envisioned Jo, round with his son, with a youthful glow about her. They would call her the Mother of Steel, and she would be a far better mother than his was. He grew warm in his belly at the thought. He wondered what their boys would look like. Maybe they'd have a girl, a spitting image of her mother. All the Brotherhood would celebrate, and --

Jo emerged from the bunker, her face stern as it always was when she undertook a mission. Maxson crushed his cigarette under his shoe, and when he looked up once more, had his breath catch in his throat. Danse exited right after her, wary and afraid. He immediately forgot his fantasy and felt his fury brew. She betrayed him. She let the abomination live after he expressly ordered it destroyed. How could she be so easily swayed by a machine? Why would she risk everything for it? She had to know it wasnt human, and that it would kill her the first chance it got. He watched as she beckoned that machine onward, and before waiting to see more signs of her deliberate betrayal, stormed down to confront her.

"Knight Lahey!" He roared. "Why isn't this  _thing_ destroyed? I gave you express orders!" He expected her to cower before him as all his soldiers did. Instead, he should have known that her strength would shine as it always did. She stood in _front_ of Danse and met him toe to toe, protecting that  _synth_ instead of siding with the man she was going to marry.

"And I choose to ignore those order, Arthur. You're wrong. Danse is a good man, and I won't let you or anyone else hurt him."

"You are not fucking serious. Tell me you're not serious! It's a fucking machine, Josephine! A construct of the Institute to destroy mankind, and it will start with us! We are the last hope for mankind; we need to eradicate these abominations before they repeat the Great Disaster! We can't let this  _thing_ report back to its masters. Any minute it could receive orders to murder you, can't you see that?"

Jo glared at Maxson, her jaw clenched.

"Jo, Maxson's right. I told you, I'm not worth it. I can't have you destroy your career with the Brotherhood for me. It's not safe out there, and your best chance of survival is with the Brotherhood," Danse said solemnly.

"Oh shit up, Danse!" Jo snapped. She turned back to Maxson. "Arthur, please, listen to me. This is wrong. Danse served you loyally for years. He hasn't betrayed you, and he won't. I'll vouch for him."

"That's not good enough, Jo," Maxson growled.

"Please, if any part of you really loves me, let him go. I can't let this happen, Arthur, I won't."

Arthur round his teeth as she spoke. He realized then what this was: her plea to save the man she loved. A man that wasn't him. A man that wasnt even a _man._ He felt his heart break, and clenched his fist at his side. Any display of anger would tip her over the edge, and he knew he had to be very careful or he'd never see her again. There was still a chance he could win her back, and he couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try.

"Tell me, Knight, when did you know?"

"I told you, I didn't know until you told me!"

"No. When did you know you were in love with it? How long have you lied to me?"

"I--"

"No, don't. You'd rather be with a machine than a man? Tell me, can a machine love you better than I? Can it fuck you better than I do? Do you really enjoy knowing you're fucking a something that isn't even a real  _man?_  How am I supposed to face my men, when I've been shamed by the woman they all snickered about behind my back? Do you even know what I've gone through for you? How can you be so cruel? "He demanded. He watched Danse step closer, but Jo signaled for him to step back. He wished the abomination would try something. He would put a bullet between its eyes.

"Arthur, please don't do this. I was wrong for keeping this from you, and I knew I was. I just didn't want to risk Danse's career for this. I'm sorry. Please don't make him pay for this; I'll do anything!"

Maxson watched her quietly, a scowl on his lips as she begged with her eyes. Eyes in which, he once thought, he could find his peace. He knew the only way: he'd have to spare the abomination. He lost the battle, but he'd win the war.

"Fine. I will spare this  _thing_ , but you will follow these orders: you will return to the Prydwen and resume your duties. You will tell anyone who asks that you destroyed this machine, and if any of my soldiers see it again, they _will_ shoot to kill. It will leave the Commonwealth forever, and it will be as though this never happened. I will brief you on the rest of your orders when you return. Is that understood?"

She nodded, and Danse smiled sadly.

"Thank you for believing in me, Arthur." Danse tried to thank Maxson, but the Elder's gaze easy fixed on Jo.

"Do not mistake my mercy for acceptance,  _Synth._ This decision was made for Jo, not for you. Say your goodbyes, Josephine, and report to the Prydwen within 24 hours. By that time, my soldiers will sweep this area, and if this machine is still here, they will destroy it. Ensure you have reported in by then, Knight. My leniency only stretches so far."

"Thank you, Arthur. Thank you," Jo managed through tears. It pained Maxson when she reached for Danse's hand, and led him back to the bunker, presumably to gather his meager belongings.

"Well, we'll see how happy you are when this is over, Jo," Arthur whispered as he climbed back over the hill to the waiting vertibird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I felt it flowed better than the scene in game. At least you know Maxson has a plan!


	24. Chapter 24

She squeezed Danse's hand before she released it to press the elevator button, a feeble attempt at consoling him. Why would she make such a terrible decision? She stepped in front of a gun and shielded him with her body, putting her own life at risk for a machine. Normal people wouldn't make such a call, but Jo was far from normal.

Danse watched her as they rode the slow elevator down. There were no words to describe how he felt about this woman; he felt pride at the level of courage she showed, but pitied her at the same time. He wanted for so long to hear her declare her love for him, but now that she had, he felt like he has betrayed her somehow. He would never be good enough for her, and certainly never be as worthy as Maxson, but she had chosen _him_. He would use the rest of his life to live up to what she saw in him, to be better than a machine. 

"What are you thinking?" She asked, resting a hand on his forearm. Her eyes shouted her worry for him, the twitch of her lips screamed her sorrow.

"I'm wondering what would possess you to do that," he muttered. "And thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

She smiled at him from under her dark lashes and blushed slightly. The elevator dinged open, and Jo pulled him to her as she walked backwards out of it, kissing Danse feverishly. 

"The only thing possessing me is this crazy little thing called love," she smirked, and began unbuttoned her blouse.

Danse groaned and felt his member grind against her hip. He ran his hands up to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently. He pushed her back on to the bed and pulled her clothes off slowly, nipping at the soft flesh underneath. She mewled under him and pulled his mouth to her breast where he obliged to her unspoken request. He pulled himself back from her delicate embrace and took her in: her raven locks sprawled across his pillow, her lips red from his kiss, her eyes heavy with lust. 

How the hell did he ever get so lucky? He rocked his hips as he buried himself in her love, time and time again. Her fingernails clawed at his forearms and shoulders, and he felt her back arch underneath him. The way her warm heat enveloped him and the way she ground against him was almost too much to bear. He wanted to slow down, to give her as much pleasure as she did him, but he knew she was a far way off from her own peak. It was too late, he was teetering on the edge, and her moans were tipping him overboard. 

With a loud grunt, he forcefully rammed his final few thrusts into her, making Jo cry out. His own hot fluids mixed with hers when he erupted without warning. She laid underneath him as he caught his breath, rubbing small circles on his shoulder blades. Danse didn't kiss her like he normally would, instead turning away and pulling his fatigues back on. 

"Richard?" She asked quietly. "Was it something I did? Please tell me what'sgoing on in your head."

Danse paused before lighting a cigarette. 

"I... we stick to the plan and leave the Commonwealth. It won't be long before the Brotherhood starts poking around; we should gather up our essentials and head out at daybreak. Who is your contact? Please tell me it isn't that smart-mouthed Railroad agent."

"Well, I'd tell you, but I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise," she playfully bumped her shoulder with her own. "You really don't want to talk about it, do you?" Her voice was concerned and her brow was furrowed with worry. Danse turned his face from hers, shielding his misting eyes from her view.

"No, Josephine," he snapped. "I don't want to talk about it." He finished smoking his cigarette in silence, and curled up with his back to her. He shrugged away her attempts at comfort, getting as close as possible to the wall to illustrate his point. He wanted to sleep alone. Jo sighed and pulled out her pack, unrolling her sleeping bag to sleep next to his cot.

"If you change your mind, I'll be here. Always," she promised before tucking herself into the lumpy sleeping bag. She paused, then continued, "I love you, Richard. Nothing will change that." 

Jo rolled over and left him to his thoughts.

At first he was grateful for the silence, but the faster his mind went, the more he wanted to wake her for a bit of her renowned idle chatter. He watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulder as a slow tear traveled down his cheek and disappeared onto his pillow. 

He could never be what she needed. He didn't know how to adjust to life as a civilian, or rather, an ex-soldier synth disguised as a civilian. He didn't know how close he wanted Jo to be-- part of him knew he was endangering her, the other part screamed that he needed her more than air. Having her babysit him because he was needy and emotionally unstable was not something he should be proud of, and he knew it. It was a selfish thing to want, and he couldn't do that to her. He knew what he needed to do.

He needed to leave her behind, and the further from her he was, the safer she would be.


	25. Chapter 25

"How's it going, Jo?" Deacon greeted. He nodded toward Danse quickly, the smile disappearing from his face. "Tin Man."

"Deacon," Danse almost growled back.

It was well known that the two didn't exactly get along, especially when it came to Jo. Deacon lived in an idealistic world where synths were docile and safe, where they would be free to live as any man could. Danse was more of a realist: synths were dangerous, himself included, and they represented everything wrong with the world. Deacon also was alittle too familiar with Jo fit Danse's liking, but he knew Jo wasn't interested in the skinny, bald civilian in that way. Danse doubted they would ever see eye to eye, but was willing to hear him out for Jo's sake.

It was important to Jo that Danse remain alive, and as much as he grew accustomed to the thought of maybe being worthy enough to live, the thought of her mourning him was a more powerful factor to him than anything. His couldn't be the grave she wept over, he owed her more than that, even if that meant disappearing from her life to keep her safe. She would move on eventually, perhaps find a man -a real man- and settle down. He pictured he smiling and holding a squirmy toddler, laughing as he fought to escape her arms. The thought was bittersweet: it wouldn't be his child, she wouldn't be his wife, and he would never see that smile again. But, he knew that, eventually, his memory would be a distant one, and she would find more love than he could ever give her.

And he would be alone, forever, as he should be. The thought brought such loneliness that Danse felt a wave of despair until he felt Jo's hand in his.

"Danse? Are you ok okay with that?" She asked. He started at her blankly, and Deacon rolled his eyes.

"I get it, you're just so thrown by my devilish good looks," Deacon said sarcastically. "I said I have a plan to get you out of the Commonwealth, but you'll need to do everything I say from here on out, otherwise you put us all in danger. Understand?" Deacon had a way of making him felt small, even though he was massive in comparison to the man's average build.

"I'm not a child, Deacon."

"No, you're a synth," Deacon reminded him, driving his point home. "A child I can walk right out of here dressed in frills and wearing deathclaw musk. We need to be a tad more inconspicuous."

Deacon's face was stone, but Danse thought there must have been a twinkle behind those sunglasses that hid so much. Danse hung his head in shame at the ease in which Deacon had called him out, but Jo squeezed his hand to encourage him. It couldn't have been meant as an insult, or Jo would have spoken up.

"Ok, we'll this is the part where you're interrogated a little bit, so why don't I go find us some breakfast?" Jo said lightly, trying to break the tension.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Danse asked incredulously. Jo sighed, and pulled him out of earshot.

"I won't be gone long, I promise. This is standard procedure. There are some things that you're going to be asked that I can't know. The less people that know these things, the safer we'll all be. After this, we'll get going, and we'll be together for the rest of our lives, so much that you'll get sick of me. Alright?"

Danse hesitated, then nodded. Jo placed a hand on his cheek before turning to leave, but Danse pulled her back to him. He kissed her, not realizing until then how afraid he was to not have her by his side, and her warm mouth comforted him. It would destroy him to let her go. He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her to him for a moment, cherishing the softness of her body against his.

"I'm sorry, about all of this," his whisper was nearly stolen by the gusts of morning air. She wrapped her arms around his torso tighter and let him finish the words he needed so badly to say. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I love you so much, it would kill me to be without you." He audibly gulped down air to stop himself from sobbing.

"Hey, don't think like that. Soon everything will be better, you'll see. Deacon is very good at what he does." Danse didn't say a word, but released her slowly. She squeezed his hand one more to assure him she'd return, and left reluctantly.

"Alright, now that the soap opera is on commercial, let's get started, shall we?" Deacon clapped his hands together and gestured for Danse to sit on a worn metal chair.

"I'll stand." Danse replied.

"Alright, but I warn you, this can be a bit intense." Deacon pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his leather jacket and sat across from the empty chair.

"Let's start easy. We're going to determine which memories are yours and which were implanted so we can know when you were created. Close your eyes. What is your first memory?"

"I was picking through trash with my friend Cutler when we were kids, trying to make a living in Rivet City."

"I see. What about your parents? Do you remember them?"

"No. We were both orphans. We relied on each other to survive."

"When were you orphaned? How old were you?"

"I don't know. I must have been really young, because I have no recollection of them."

"Siblings?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Ok, what about first girlfriend?"

"I don't remember her name, she was blonde though. We were about thirteen."

"What happened to her?"

"Uhhh... I think she left Rivet City with her parents."

"First sexual experience?"

"Excuse me? I fail to see how this ties in to anything." Danse snapped and glared at Deacon. Deacon remained unmoved, and gestured for Danse to answer the question. "Sixteen."

""With whom?"

"A girl named Cheryl."

"Tell me how it went." Deacon said without so much as a smirk.

"It was fine."

"Ok, you're obviously not getting me here, Danse. I'm asking because I need to know how in depth this memory is, not because I'm a perv. Where did this take place? Was she a virgin? Were you sober? Things that everyone remembers about their first time. Walk me through it...I don't need sexual specifics, but if you remember them, it might help if you just say you remember."

"I, uh, I'm pretty sure I was sober. She was older than I was, and she wasn't a girlfriend. She had red hair and a nice smile. I don't remember where, or any specifics."

"Ok, moving on. Do you remember Cutler's surname?" What did he look like and what was the nature of your relationship? Were you close?"

Danse shifted uncomfortably, and decided to sit after all. "He was my best friend... my only friend. I think his last name was Curtis...or Calvin. It was a long time ago. We were as close as anything, but after he died, I shut a lot of stuff out. Especially him."

"How did it feel to pull the trigger?"

"Oh for fucks sake... what do you think? I went into shock and did what my training told me to. The next thing I remember, I'm back in the Citadel getting fucked up on Med-X to numb my pain. It was the worst experience of my life."

"How did you feel when you met Jo?"

"At first I was relieved that she stopped to help my team. Then I was annoyed at her tone." Danse smiled at the memory.

"When you found out she was sleeping with Maxson?"

"I was angry. Jealous. I felt betrayed."

"Do you remember your first time with her?"

Danse glared at Deacon, challenging him to ask one more question about the woman he loved do he could tear his head off. 

"I'll take that as a yes. What about now? How do you feel about her?" Deacon asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I would die for her."

"Right...well... my question to you is: would you live for her?" 

"I don't think we are speaking the same language now, Deacon."

"Hear me out. If you had to leave her behind, even if she was in danger, would you do it if it protected her from greater harm?"

"What kind of question is that?" Danse demanded.

"Jo takes risks in the Commonwealth every single day. So does everyone else you might care about. Let say there was a raider attack on a settlement that was under Brotherhood surveillance, and the tin cans decided not to intervene. Would you rush to help her, even if you knew your presence would put her in greater danger than the raiders, because the Brotherhood would find out?" 

"I..."

"Danse, I can get you out. I can get you integrated into civilian life. What I can't do is protect you from your own bad decisions, or protect Jo for that matter. I can offer you a fail safe: a memory wipe. I can have all memories of Jo removed so that she stays safe from anyone trying to get to you. If you want to forget that you're a synth, we can do that too. Either way, we will find you a place where you belong. Maxson is pissed, you can bet on it, he'll use you to get Jo to do his bidding. You can't come back, and she can't go with you. She can't know where you are, because if they find you, all this will be for nothing, and many, many people will get hurt. I'll give you until noon to make your decision, then you'll need to say your goodbyes."

Danse stared at him with wide eyes. It was one thing to say he was going to leave Jo behind, but quite another to  _do_ it. How could he look her in the eye and tell her he wasn't coming back? How could he forget everything that they had, either literally or figuratively? His heart was breaking in the hot, early morning sun, and part of him wished he could dry up like the husks of these long dead plants so he wouldn't have to face her.

"Not necessary. I've made my decision. I'm not getting a memory wipe, but I'm ready to leave now." Danse said, his jaw set and his face resolved, even though his voice cracked with heartbreak. Deacon's mouth hung open in shock. 

"You're not going to say goodbye?" He asked as Danse bent to write Jo a letter. Danse stopped writing mid-sentence and looked at Deacon with so much sadness that Deacon related to him on another level: one that some of love and loss.

"Could you? I know it's cowardly, but she'll try to stop me, and I couldn't say no to her." Danse told him as his eyes filled with tears he refused to shed. Deacon nodded in understanding.

"No, I couldn't either." Deacon said somberly as he grabbed his pack. "We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall. Oh, and I hope you don't get seasick. New shoes." 


	26. Chapter 26

Jo held the letter in shaking hands, her lip trembling as she read it. The snared rabbits sat nearby, discarded in her panic at coming back to an empty campsite. The note, hastily scrawled in Danse's normally neat handwriting -- but still undeniably his -- was so difficult to read that she had to stop and wipe her eyes several times so that she could even see clearly enough to continue. She had found it atop a fallen log at the campsite, weighed down against the wind by his steel dog tags.

_Jo,_

_There are not enough words to express how sorry I am. About everything. I have to leave, to find out what I am, and what purpose awaits me now. Please don't look for me. I need you to stay safe, for me. You're the only thing that matters to me, and when I figure things out, I promise, I will find us a place where we can both know peace. I WILL come back for you, even if it kills me. You own my heart, always._

_I love you,_

_Danse_

 

Jo let out a scream, ignoring the danger of potential enemies, and sunk to her knees. They had been so close. Why would he change his mind and abandon her now? What could Deacon have possibly said to have him make such a decision? Or, perhaps it was Danse alone; he had been acting strange lately, and she wouldn't put it past him to distance himself if he thought she was in danger.

The tears dried on her cheeks long before the flames of the fire turned to just a smolder.  She had no clue where to start looking. Deacon was very good at hiding people, and if Danse didn't want to be found, she stood almost no chance to locate him. At least he was safe from Maxson, for now. She cringed at the prospect of having to report in, but she didn't want to chance Maxson changing his mind and starting an all out war to find him. She'd go back, for Danse, and keep the Brotherhood off his tail. It was the only thing she could do for him, the only way she could keep safe the man she loved.

Her heart ached at his absence. She missed him already, but worse, it tore her up to know he was that afraid of who he was, and what he was, that he had to isolate himself from those who cared for him. She wished he had spoken to her about it first, but she knew she would have protested and ignored his wishes. She thought love would prevail, but in post-war Massachusetts, the truth was that love was not the shield that romantics and poets wished.

She wiped her face and headed to a clearing, pulling the signal grenade as she did. 

 

\---------------------------

"Are you sure that you're up for this assignment? "

"Yes, I've made preparations and taken the necessary precautions."

"Excellent. You understand there can be no room for error. None. This is our last hope at recovering it."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I won't let you down."

"See to it that you don't, or your place within our organization will be called into question, and you know what that entails. If you should succeed, you will be generously rewarded."

"Affirmative, sir."

\-----------------------------

"You're late," Maxson glared, setting aside his issue of U.S. Covert Operations. He didn't bother to stand as Jo closed his chamber door behind her.

"I'm sorry, Elder. The vertibird took lounge than usual to reach me."

Maxson scoffed and knocked back his tumbler of whiskey, enjoying the burn a it glided down his throat.  

"Sit," he gestured to the seat next to him on the sofa. Jo shook her head slowly, and offered a friendly smile. 

"I'll stand, sir."

"It was not a request," Maxson growled, and Jo sat next to him warily. "This is how it is going to work, Josephine. You are going to do exactly as you are told from now on. No more second-guessing your commanding officers. If you do not, know that Danse has a tracking device somewhere on its body, and we will hunt it down and destroy it. Do you understand?"

Jo nodded again, meeting Maxson's tired eyes with her own. He handed her a glass of whiskey and she quickly downed the contents. He poured her another and ordered that she drink it as well.

"Good girl," he said kindly. "Now, I have a hard time grasping why you were swayed to have sexual relations with a synth. A machine. You told me you love this abomination, but you also told me you would marry me, so it's clear you're a liar. Tell me, was its cock bigger? Did you enjoy being fucked by a machine?"

"Arthur--"

"No!" Maxson interrupted.  "No more lies. Tell me the truth, Jo. If you even know what that is anymore."

Jo grit her teeth in rage and tried to grab the whiskey bottle from Maxson, but he abruptly snatched it away. Jo raised an eyebrow but let his childish display pass.

"Danse doesn't just fuck me. He makes love to me. He holds me. He takes his time getting to know my needs and desires, and then he fulfills them. He doesn't just use me and toss me aside when things become an inconvenience to his lifestyle! He listens to me, and feels my pain, and cries when I'm hurt. You might tell me you love me, but he shows it!"

Maxson slammed his gloved first down on the steel desk at her outburst to silence her.

 _"It,_ " he growled, "does not love you. Jesus, Jo! It can't love you!  It's a machine! It is simply regurgitating information and mimicking behavior. Can't you see how dangerous it is? Is an abomination, and every moment you waste on it is one that puts your life in danger. I'm here! Flesh and blood, and I love you! If I didn't, I would have killed it on the spot for taking and defiling what is mine!"

Jo wanted to storm out of the room, to scream at him, or to slap him. Anything to not have to take his shit. Instead, she glared at him in silence. Maxson huffed when she stood and began to pace. 

"Regardless of my personal feeling towards you, Danse is now an enemy if the Brotherhood and as far as it is concerned, you followed your orders and killed it. By the way, you are promoted to Paladin. Not only do we now have a need, but this actually benefits us both." Maxson smirked. 

"How?" Jo asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Well, you, unfortunately, will be confined to the ship until I feel that you are not a threat to our operations. You will have no contact with the synth M7-97, nor any other known synths, ghouls, or supermutants. I, however, have decided to forgive your previous dalliances with the synth, and believe that you were as fooled as I was. We will resume our courtship, and eventually, our nuptials. You'll finally be my wife, and we can put this entire headache behind us."

"No. I will not! You can't force someone to marry you! Have you lost your damn mind?" Jo snapped weakly, beginning to feel dizzy.

"My mind is quite sound, I assure you. I am not forcing you to be my wife. You will make the choice to do so, if you want that abomination to remain alive. I will either have my woman, or my revenge. I will have your answer now; I gave you time to decide once before and that was a foolish decision. I will not wait this time." Maxson warned. Jo began to sway on her feet, and quickly sat down. 

"I..." her head began to spin.  _I'm sorry Richard. Please, forgive me._ "Do you promise no harm will come to him?"

" _It,"_ Maxson corrected softly. "No harm will come to M7-97. You have my word as Elder."

Jo hung her head in her hands and wept. Maxson watched her with indifference; he knew that this was not a choice she took lightly, and though part of him felt a pang of guilt, the restof him celebrated this major victory. Jo sniffled, and through wracked sobs, sputter all her agreement.

_For you, Danse. Please, wherever you are, be safe._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to write, and I'm still not happy with it, but I hope you were able to stomach it so we can get to the juicy bits.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Up to the separator is fine. Rape scene follows, you can skip if it's not your thing.

"Well, Tin Man, this is it," Deacon said without his usual comedic tone. The boat drifted into the harbor until it slowed to a crawl and finally stopped. Danse eyed the dismal landscape, not realizing he let out a growl as he did so.

"If feel a lot better if I could see six feet in front of me, civilian."

"And I would feel a lot better if the world went back to prewar living, but we all don't like guspacho," Deacon retorted and Danse raised an eyebrow in silent confusion. "Come on, it's a short trek from here. You can have a hot shower and a decent meal."

"I'm pretty sure the fog will soak me enough to constitute a shower." Danse muttered in return.

"MmHmm, maybe a radioactive shower from an acid coated faucet. Avoid the fog at all costs; it swoops in quickly and before you know it you're chow for some mutated bunny rabbit."

"I will keep that under advisement." A short silence followed.

"Besides...swooping is bad."

They trekked through the swamps and down crumbling roads for what seemed like forever. Danse jumped at any noise from the surrounding mists, hyper-aware that these beasts were unlike those in the Commonwealth, or even the Capital Wasteland. He wondered how Jo was doing with the news that he'd likely not return, at least not any time soon. And worst of all, he missed her and doubted his decision. After all, she might be so livid she'd never speak to him again.

"She'll be fine, you know. She has friends that will look out for her until you get back."

"Yes, I know."

"I make it my job to know a lot of things about a lot of people, and I can tell you this: Jo loves you. She'd do anything for you. I'm not sure why... I mean, you're kind of a brute... big and dumb...I bet you can crush a skull in your bare hands."

Danse rolled his eyes.

"Would you like to test that theory?"

"Not particularly. I'm just saying. She could have had her pick of anyone. MacCready, Garvey, Maxson... that rich kid from Diamond City. I mean, she couldn't charm her way into my bed, but I'm waiting for Mrs. Right to just waltz on in on a white steed. She picked you. That says something."

"That she has had too many hits to the head?" Danse answered absently.

"No, but that would explain things. It says that she's able to look past the fact you dress up like a tin can, and see a person underneath. I wouldn't worry about her. She's in it for the lung haul, and I'm going to make it my personal mission that you both live long enough for that to happen." Deacon looked up and pointed to a large compound. "And here we are. Do yourself a favor. Avoid the locals. You have Heath Ledger's Joker on one side, and Insane Clown Posse on the other. Stay in the compound and you'll be alright."

"That's it? Three no covert op to get me in now?" Danse asked apprehensively. Deacon just shrugged and pointed to a side door.

"Should be unlocked. I'll check in on you every few weeks and pass messages if you have any. No names, you'll have to use code like the rest of us. See you in a few weeks, Tin Man." Deacon waved over his shoulder and began to walk away. 

"You're just going to leave?" Danse called after him. Deacon glanced back over his shoulder, not bothering to slow his gait.

"I'd love to stay for tea and all that, but I have a really pissed off vault dweller slash railroad agent slash soldier slash militia general to appease. Stay alive, or she'll murder us both!" 

Danse watched him walk away until he was swallowed by the surrounding trees and fog. 

\------------------------------------

Jo woke slowly, the feeling of being violently rocked about waking her from a drunken slumber. The room was dim and it took her a few moments to process where she was. 

When she did, she was horrified.

Maxson lay over her, grunting and naked as he plowed into her again and again. He occasionally moaned loudly and snapped his hips against her own, thrusting ruthlessly and bottoming out within her. His sweat trickled down his brow and trailed down his face, leaving rivulets of victory and finally falling on her cheeks in place of the tears that had yet to fall. He moaned her name like a mantra, all while Jo lay motionless and stiff, though Maxson took no notice. He grabbed her hair roughly and kissed her pale neck hungrily, painfully.

Finally, Jo registered what was happening and tried to scream, but his large hand clamped down firmly on her mouth. She struggled against him, but found herself weak and disoriented. He hushed her patiently and smoothed back her hair gently. 

"Shh, it's just me Jo. You fell asleep halfway through, but I've been waiting so long. I have to finish." He told her softly and when her body relented, he released his hand from her mouth. 

"Arthur... no...stop." she begged, but the words were mumbled and not coherent. He looked at her strangely and shook his head as he resumed his thrusting.

"You're going to be my wife in the morning, Jo. That means you have wifely duties. I've waited long enough." He said patiently, though his eyes gave her a warning.

He withdrew from her heat and flipped her over. A short while later, she felt something press against her behind, insistent and demanding, before it found her asshole. Maxson pushed his cock into her as she sobbed. He inched in slowly at first, but once he felt her tightness adjust to him he slammed in the rest of the way. Jo felt like vomiting. The pain was intense and burning, and she felt like she was being torn in two by his humongous size. He continued to grunt loudly, and Jo was reminded of being a child and seeing her dogs mate. Animalistic and desperate.

The tears rolled down her face and he pressed himself into her, again and again. He locked her legs between his own so that she could not move, and when she tried to buck him off, he only slammed into her harder. She felt disgust roll through her every time he let out a loud groan or when his sweat hit her back. There was suddenly copious amounts of moisture where she had been nearly dry, and Maxson fucked her all the harder. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her face towards him. 

"That blood down there, or are you getting wet for me? That fucking machine never had enough creativity to fuck you in the ass?" Jo felt the scream rise in her throat but it never hit her lips. Jo didn't think it could get any worse, but Maxson picked up speed, his breath matching his rhythm. "Ugghhh! Fuck Jo! I'm going to come!" He screamed

Instead of coming in her ass like Jo thought he would, Maxson pulled out unexpectedly and stuffed his gleaming cock back into her cunt. One more thrust was all he needed, and he spilled his hot cum into her, ignoring her quiet sobs as he shivered against her. He was silent as he caught his breath, not bothering to pull out. 

"Good girl," he panted. "You want to be a slut? I'll fuck you like one and obliterate every last trace of that machine with my seed. Roll over, I'm ready to go again." 


	28. Chapter 28

"It's too risky, Deacon," Haylen said resolutely. "I have a hard enough time sneaking his letters on to the Prydwen. Maxson isn't very happy with her right now, and word has it that he has her locked in the brig indefinitely. I can't be seen talking to her. Maxson's guards only let me in because I'm a scribe and provide medical care."

"Come on Haylen, the big guy is seriously raining on his own parade. He could use a little bit of hope from his lady. It's just one letter; it's not like I'm asking you to get plans for the nukes I know you guys have. No one has to know."

"No. I know Danse. He'll be fine. He just needs time." Deacon grimaced at the cliche and Haylen's face softened. "Look, I feel for the big guy, I do. But Rhys and I have a good thing now. I'm not going to put him or myself at risk for a piece of paper."

"What if you were in his position? Wouldn't you want to know that he was safe?"

"Irrelevant, because I'm not."

"No, it's not. His safety is directly reliant on hers. We both know if either of you thought your S.O. was in trouble, you'd both come charging in, guns blazing. Just collect it with her meal. YOU won't be caught as long as you stay in routine."

"Deacon, I don't think you understand how obsessed Elder Maxson is with her now. He's planning an elaborate wedding, and he keeps her locked up under twenty-four hour guard. No one is allowed to speak to her without a witness, and everyone has to avert their gaze. I've een giving her small pieces of the notes, one at a time, and I'm super careful about it. How do you expect me to sneak out a whole letter?"

Deacon eyed her carefully for a moment, studying her enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Easy," he shrugged. "You don't have Rhys involved. You keep it to yourself, slip her something during a commotion. Just stay in routine."

"Fuck...," Haylen sighed. "Fine, I'll see what I can do, but no promises. Just...tell Danse to be careful. Maxson is over paranoid, and that should mean more coming from me."

"Noted. Be careful."

"Yeah, yeah," Haylen muttered. "Charlie, put the beers on his tab, yeah?"

\--------------------------------

Jo stared despondently at the wall across from her. Though she was a prisoner, Maxson had arranged for every comfort for his bride to be: a lush mattress, clean linens, and a private washroom. He dined with her every night, checking her person as well as the cell for contraband. He seemed to be past his psychotic break; he was gentle and soft spoken as he once had been, and she soon learned his mood was directly influenced by hers. 

For the first week, Jo wouldn't speak. She drank little, and ate even less. She scrubbed her skin so raw that it bled, trying to wash the traces of Maxson off her, though he never took her from behind again, and she was glad. She would stare into nothingness for hours, and would not answer to her own name. Cade worried she had become catatonic

The second week, she stopped grimacing. Her wounds were healing, and Maxson would often come in her cell to clean them. He was gentle, almost a completely different man than the one who had hurt her. He got her to eat, would bathe her in floral scented baths, and de-tangle her hair afterwards. She still would not speak. 

By the third week, she would not flinch when he brushed by her, and would not jerk away from his presence. He could get her to give up one word answers, but not much else. Her eyes were still vacant when he made love to her, and she laid as stiff as a board.

He knew he fucked up. She hadn't tried to run once- she was afraid for Danse. He didn't have to force her, and he knew it. He couldn't make it right, and he would never ask for her forgiveness, but he could acknowledge to Jo what he had done. It was either admit his transgressions or be consumed by his guilt for having committing them. 

He cleared his busy schedule and had the kitchen prepare the fanciest dinner they could. In the observation deck, he set a small, round table with heirloom silverware, china and crystal. Soft music was flowing from a radio-- all her favorite romantic music. When he was finished, he watched the candles burn down as his guards retrieved her. 

She was dirty, he noticed. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, even though he saw her just the night before. He had a thought to bathe her first, but decided it better that she eat while he get his thoughts off his chest. 

"Please, sit," he gestured to a plush dining chair, even pulled it out for her. She hesitated a moment, and obeyed. He eyes were downcast and defeated, and the image burned a hole right through him. He did this to her. What sort of enraged beat had he become? 

"I asked you to join me here tonight because I wanted to speak with you." She did not acknowledge that she had heard him, yet he continued. "My behavior has become...harsh. It pains me deeply that I hurt you like that. I won't do so again, you have my word. I became so jealous, it blinded me from what was right. I hated that you chose a synth, and that you let it manipulate you into thinking it was capable of love. I wish I had done things differently, but I'm glad we're here together now.

"Tomorrow, everything will be different. The officiant arrives in the morning, and we'll exchange our vows in a few weeks. I don't want our hearts to be heavy with this as we enter this next phase of our lives. I swear to you,  I'll be a better man, and a good husband. I'll never raise a hand to you, or hurt you ever again. We can get past this, Josephine, I believe that. Do you?" He took her hand in his and gently kissed her knuckles. 

Jo watched him in utter confusion. Was this the same man she met who she nearly fell for, so long ago? He wasn't the same man who hurt her so terribly weeks before. Had he been replaced by a synth Too?  What the hell was happening? 

"Our deal stands?" She asked in a whisper, the first time she had spoken in weeks.

"Of course it does. I don't give my word easily. So long as I have you, Danse is safe," he assured her. "I need you,  Josephine. You make me a better man. Please tell me you'll try." Arthur's eyes filled with tear he swore he would not shed. 

"Ok," she nodded, and said no more. Arthur grinned at this major victory and neatly leapt across the table to kiss her.

"Thank you, Jo. As a gesture of my goodwill, I'm allowing you to resume your duties. You're free to roam the Prydwen as you like, but you will report in before and after each mission. I will not come to you again until we are married, but you may make the choice to come to me. I want us to return to a life of normalcy as soon as possible. In the morning, report to Quinlan for a quick debrief and new mission."

A knock at the door saved Jo from having to answer. Maxson didn't notice the grinding of teeth, the flaring of her nostrils, or her silence. Their meal arrived, and Maxson spoke no more. It had been the worst apology Jo had ever heard, and she would never forgive him. The maniac thought he had won, but she would turn the tables in her favor. 

Another knock at the door interrupted their meal, though Jo wasn't rating so much as pressing tatos around her plate. Maxson growled and stood abruptly from the table, his chair screeching along the metal floor.

"What?" he barked, pulling the door open a free inches. 

"Very sorry for the interruption, Elder Maxson, sir," a scribe no more than twelve said timidly, visibly shaking. "Proctor Teagan has asked you meet him in the brig immediately. He said there's something there you need to see right away."   


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those in kept waiting. A close friend of mine had a traumatic death and I've been grieving. I hope to be able to get active again soon.

Maxon angrily stomped off towards the brig, with an anxious new Paladin in his wake. He didn't say a word for the entire trip there, but Jo could feel the irritation pouring off him. She didn't like the way he made her feel: the constant walking on eggshells and worrying about his temper, worrying he would go through with his threats to hurt Danse, constantly feeling manipulated into living a lie that he demanded be made manifest. It was like living alongside a ticking time bomb. She knew it would eventually destroy her, but she'd rather it be her than the man she loved more than life. She couldn't bare it if she lost him, especially not after discovering the news about Shawn, so she followed Maxson's orders down to the brig.

What she saw made her heart wrench. Two fully-armored guards held her resolutely, and pushed her to her knees when Maxson entered the room. Haylen's face was a mixture of terror and confusion, and Jo wondered what she had done to deserve such treatment before it dawned on her. "Elder Maxson, sir," Teagan called, walking over to greet him with an angry look on his face.

"Proctor, I demand to know what is going on here! What is so important that you called me from din-- why the hell is Haylen on the floor?"

"Sir, she had been caught colluding with the synth replica of Paladin Danse. We found her planting this note in Leahey's cell when she entered it to bring her dinner. As soon as we found it, we called for you, Sir."

Jo watched as Maxson read the note; the fury on his face was evident as it twisted with rage. He carefully laid the note on a worn table before stepping away to regard Haylen carefully. Jo scanned the note quickly, and began to tremble: _L_ _eave a message for Danse, and I will ensure he gets it._ There was no name to the note, but Haylen gave it away with her shaking. 

"Scribe Haylen is sentenced to lockup in the brig while I get to the bottom of this. No one is to visit her in that time. No one! Do you understand the gravity of these crimes Haylen?" Maxson asked gently, but Haylen did not answer. 

"Fine. Ensure her rations are halted until further notice. I'm sure she'll sing long before she can starve to death anyway," he said with a sneer. "Leahey! Command deck. Stat."

Jo once again trailed after him, her head down the entire way. She didn't know why Haylen would risk treason, but she knew they both would receive equal blame. She shuddered at the thought, but felt guilt take hold at not wanting to be a part of this-- whatever this was. 

"Was this your doing?" Maxson asked quietly as soon as the door closed behind her, his back to her. 

"No."

"If it was, Jo, I need you to be honest with me. Have you attempted to contact M7-97?" He demanded, his voice stern but something that resembled hope was there. 

"What would you do if I had?" She dared. Maxson's face burned crimson, but his rage was gone as soon as it arrived. He gave her a small smile, realizing his dilemma.

"Why do you taunt me, Jo? Just tell me the truth: have you been sneaking correspondence to it behind my back?" The betrayal and hurt in his face was pain to see, but Jo steeled herself. It would be worse for everyone if she admitted to a crime she didn't commit, and she knew that. 

"No. I've received word he is alive and in hiding, but that's I have not initiated contact, nor would I know how to find him." 

The sigh of relief he let out was audible, and he kissed her gently on the mouth. 

"I knew you'd keep your word. We've come a long way in a short while, and I know in time, we'll set things right again. In the meantime, I have an important mission that only you can accomplish. Are you ready to resume your fieldwork?" He asked. 

Jo nodded eagerly, thankful for any and all time she could spend away from the monster wearing this man's flesh. 

"Excellent. I need you to infiltrate the Institute again, and retrieve more information. I need to know what kind of weapons tech they have, any facility weaknesses, who the primary personnel are, aside from Dr. Li. I want you to keep am sure and am ear out. We need any further information that can lead to their destruction."

"Affirmative, Elder."

Maxson did not miss the detachment from her words.

"Josephine, I love you, and I will do whatever I have to in order to keep you safe. As a soldier, I've learned to be strong. But we're a force when we're together. We'll make the world right again, and all of this will feel like a bad dream."

"But what will happen to Haylen?" Jo asked, her voice trembling. 

"Don't worry, she'll be punished, but I'll be merciful. But if I ever see an incident like this again, I will not be as lenient. Understood?"

Jo could only nod and take her leave. 


	30. Chapter 30

Rhys was just finishing his meal when the news hit him. He jumped from his worn stool and whipped around to face Ingram.

"The fuck do you mean?" He demanded.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger, Rhys. All I know is Haylen is being held in the brig until further notice. I don't know why, I don't go around questioning my Elder's orders."

Rhys ground his teeth and his jaw creaked, sending shivers down Brandis' spine.

"I'm gonna to see her. Now. I'll clear up this whole mess."

"No can do, kid. Sorry, Maxson's orders. No visitors, no deliveries, not even her rations. The only one who might be able to sway him is Paladin Lahey."

"Well where the fuck is she? And why the hell would the counsel of a vault dweller mean anything to him?"

Brandis shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle.

"She's out on mission right now, but ask her when she comes back. Maxon might be a strong military leader, but he is as whipped as a raider puppy. She's the only one he'll listen to," he mumbled into his cup of steaming coffee.

"Ingram, please.This is Haylen. Doesn't she at least deserve a trial? How long does he plan to hold her without feeding her?"

"Rhys, I get it. Your worried, but relax: Maxson doesn't have extensive punishments, or cruel ones. I'm sure she'll be out soon."

Rhys didn't like the feeling in his gut, but he nodded in reluctant agreement.

____________________________________

It had been seven weeks since Danse arrived. He sent letters to Jo almost weekly, notes to reaffirm his love for her and assure her off his safety, but he'd yet to receive a response. He worried that Maxson had hurt her, and was prepared to storm the airport and find her when Deacon returned. He just so happened to bring a new synth with him that day, a young woman with features like a porcelain doll: straw colored hair, icy blue eyes and ivory skin. 

The girl was terrified, that much was apparent. She looked no older than twenty, and visibly shook when Deacon introduced him. 

"Hey Tinman, this is Anabel. Do me a favor and look after her, okay? Anabel, this is... Ryan. He new here too, so he'll show you around and help you out until you get settled." Deacon introduced them, catching Danse's eye. "Uhhh... Ryan. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Danse nodded once firmly and followed Deacon to a back room, watching Anabel fidget through the soundproof glass.

"It's been nearly two months. Why hasn't she written back yet? Is she hurt?" Danse demanded.  

"I'll keep an ear to the ground, but word is she's on a recon mission to the Institute. I'm sure when she gets back she'll have something for you, don't worry. In the meantime, take care of Blondie here. She's been through a lot."

"I'm not a babysitter, Deacon."

"No, but you are someone who has also been through hell. Listen, she's barely an adult. She watched as raiders raped and killed her mom and sister. Last year, supermutants hit her settlement, ate her father while she hid under the floor, and forced FEV on her brother. Last week, the kid finds out she's a synth. She needs a friend, and I figured you'd understand more than anyone what that feels like."

Danse followed a long silence with a loud sigh.

"Fine," he relented. "But the minute I hear that Jo's in trouble, I'm out of here."

"Your wish is my... strong recommendation."

"Don't be an idiot."

__________________________________________________

"Mother, I'm delighted you've decided to return to us. If there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable, please, let me know."

Even the sound of Shawn's voice made her stomach churn.  

"No, thank you Shawn. I'm alright. I decided the surface isn't really for me. I just...I can't adjust. Thank you for inviting me back. I guess I'm just used to life... before it... changed."

He watched her suspiciously for a split second, then his brow softened.  

"Indeed. The surface world is dead. Once we perfect our technology, or wish is to share it with those above ground, but we have quite a ways to go, I'm afraid." He gestured to the door, and Jo led the way towards the atrium.

"Mother!" The voice of a small child rang across the massive room, and Jo's heart leapt into her throat. There he was, the boy. The Shawn she was meant to find, the one she went through hell to get to. Though it was a mirage, this bit was as human as Danse was, and she yearned to hold him. The boy ran to her, but stopped just before he reached her waiting arms, unsure of what to do. Father nodded, and the boy gently hugged Jo, awkward but warm. 

The three continued along to the synth retention department, Jo oblivious to their course, just enjoying the sensation of the little hand in hers. 

"Just before reaching the final door, Father sent young Shawn away, urging him to return to his studies. Of course the dutiful child obeyed, and Father and Jo were alone once more. 

"I have done to a dilemma, and I'm finding myself in want of your opinion. We have many synth runaways, as you know, and although many can be caught and corrected prior to escape, we still are missing quite a bit ofor our inventory. I had thought to make the returned escapees into domestic synths if they cannot be reprogrammed to their former duties. They could be anything from nannies to lovers, depending on the need. It is preferable to having them running wild on the surface." The door opened after a verification scan and the two continued on down a long corridor. "To explain: our longest running project has been the synth reproduction effort, or synth qualitative umbillic and isolated reproductive  theory." 

"You're not serious. Not only do you want to pay God, but you're using a term that can be shortened to..." The humor fell out of Jo's voice as she saw who sat in the synth reclamation chair. 

There was Danse, her beautiful Danse, strapped to the chair, looking as though he were nearly dead. His hair was matted to his scalp, his beard scraggly and as dark as the circles under his eyes. 

"I'm told you had dealings with this synth on the surface. Once we recaptured him, I decided it would be a courtesy to involve you as to its fate." Jo gasped under her breath, and tried to control her shaky breaths. She approached Danse quietly, lightly touching his cheek.

"Mother, please remember, M7-97 was never a human entity. I can arrange for new memories to be implanted if that is your wish. Would you prefer it to be assigned to another individual, or do you wish to take ownership?"

Jo was unable to answer, tears welling in her eyes at the lifeless husk in front of her. She tried to get him to look at her, but his eyes-- it's eyes -- stared back lifelessly.    

"What have you done?" Jo whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Mother, we've simply taken back what is ours. I will gift it to you, and program it to obey you, so long as it does not interfere with Institute objectives. I will have it brought to your quarters when it is ready, but in the meantime, please feel free to see my advancements on the synth child, Shawn, and tell me your thoughts. I must attend an appointment now, but I would ask that you join me for dinner tonight to discuss your thoughts."

Jo wanted to scream, but he mind couldn't grasp the nightmare unfolding around her. 

First her husband, then her stepson, now sweet, courageous Danse. Was there nothing the Institute wouldn't take from her? 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. It has feels.

Nearly the entire airship had gathered for Haylen's sentencing. Some crowded the fore deck, but the majority anxiously awaited news in her halls, crammed together like sardines in a pristine tin can. Rhys had managed to find a spot close enough to see her, though she couldn't see him in amongst the crowd of onlookers.

His brow furrowed in anger when he saw her: she was handcuffed and had been beaten about the face and neck. His heart leapt in his throat to see the distinctive handprints around her throat, her father lip and swollen eye. She had been washed of blood, but the damage was visible to anyone who had seeing eyes. Rhys tried to elbow his way forward, but no one word let him pass. He tried to call her name, and Haylen's head snapped up to search him out in the crowd, though she still couldn't spot him. 

Maxson hushed the crowd and began with a booming voice: "As we have been fighting the Institute, and as our brothers and sisters in arms have been dying for our cause, there has been those within our ranks who have chosen to betray us by use of espionage, deceit, impersonation, and treason. You all have seen that any one can be a traitor in disguise. Anyone can be a wolf leading the young to slaughter. Our very own Paladin Richard Danse was kidnapped, murdered, and replaced with a synth: our very enemy! It was terminated by Sentinel Lahey, without a second thought. Now a second Institute synth, created via cloning, has once again attempted to infiltrate our organization! They will not stop! But I tell you, my brothers and sisters, I will root them out and find them. I will destroy them all, one by one. I will not allow our enemy to destroy us: neither from within nor from without!

"Scribe Jessica Haylen stands before you, once a loyal servant to the Brotherhood and its cause. She stood with us in combat, comforted the dying, and tended to our wounded. She gained our trust. But, she has deceived us all; she has been discovered to be an informant to the newest synth replica of Paladin Danse. She has been caught red-handed with sensitive information intended for the synth. She has made it clear: her judgement is clouded enough to feel compassion for a machine, while she feels none for the men and women losing their lives. She has colluded with our enemy, putting the lives of every one of us in danger. As Elder, it is my duty to urge you to come forward with any information to wipe the synths from the Prydwen and off the fave of the earth. It is your duty to report any suspicious activity immediately. I will not allow traitors to break us. 

"Scribe Haylen, you have been charged with conspiracy to commit murder, colluding with the enemy, sharing sensitive information, and treason. I have seen the evidence myself, and as it is quite damning, I agree with Proctors Teagan and Quinlan that we may forego a trial. As you have been charged, so too have you been convicted. Have you anything to say in your defense that may allow for leniency in your punishment?"

Rhys held his breath, straining to hear her over the jeering crowd. Maxson signalled for everyone to be silent, and turned to Haylen once more. She held his gaze as though she were the one forged from steel, rather than Elder Arthur Maxson himself, and nodded slowly. Instead of cowering at his feet the way many would, instead of grasping at his boots and crying for mercy, she turned towards where Rhys stood. 

There were so many gasps, so much whispering and gossip that it was near impossible for anyone on board to hear her, but to him, the only sounds were the blood roaring in his ears and the sweet sound of her voice, melancholic though it was. 

"I love you, Rhys. Forever."

Though everything in him begged him to close his eyes or turn away from the scene before him, Rhys kept his eyes on hers. This was the only comfort he could offer her: the knowledge that he wouldn't turn away, that he would face with her whatever may come. She smoked ruefully then, and Rhys knew that smile to be her best form of rebellion. Rhys smiled back: a sad, knowing smile that expressed that their lives were forever changed the day he listened to the synth, the duplicate of Paladin Richard Danse.

This would be another day that would forever scar him: the day he watched his revered Elder-- the war hero Arthur Maxson, last of his line and preserver of mankind-- put a .45 caliber bullet into her beautiful face.

In that moment he knew that his place was not with the Brotherhood. The soldiers filed past, their source of entertainment diminished for the moment. Rhys moved slowly as if he was in a daze until he reached her body. What he had only recently claimed as his-- the beautiful shell that housed her soul-- was now a bloody mess of gore. He fell to his knees at the site, pulling her tiny hand-- still intact, though filthy-- into his. He stroked her knuckles softly, still able to feel the warmth of her as though she would wake any moment. Maxson ruined the thought when he loomed over him, silhouetted against the bright sun. 

"Rhys, you need to understand she betrayed us. She endangered us all, and our mission," Arthur spoke sternly, and Rhys rose to his feet in silence. Maxson was less than impressed that Rhys' logic didn't visibly agree. Maxson sneered and continued, " A set this cleaned up.  As a kindness, I will allow you to collect her remains and transport them below for burial. I will grant you a leave of six weeks, where I normally would give one, as I know she was special to you. Upon your return, I will have another mission for you, one that rides on a promotion. Ad victorium soldier."

Rhys stiffy saluted  the maniac, then spent the next two hours scrubbing his lover's blood out of the steel rivets on deck, and braiding snipped pieces of her blood-soaked tresses.


	32. Chapter 32

Jo headed to her pristine quarters, feeling the heavy burden of grief on her heart. It felt like just moment ago that she held Danse in her arms, snuggling into his broad chest and watching the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a half smile. Alone in her thoughts, she envisioned that man and compared him to what he had become.

This man-- this synth, for that was what he was -- was not the Danse she loved so much, and yet she owed it to him to try to bring his memory back, or at the very least, free him of this sterile hell. His eyes were without emotion, his voice without compassion, and it sent waves of nausea through her to think of him like this. Even worse, she knew he would be reprogrammed to be her slave: to obey without question, to please her in every way possible, whether he had the wish to or not. He would defend her life with his own, and make love to her, without a second thought. The notion that he had lost his free will broke her spirit, and she felt like a husk of her former self, much like he was.

The door to her quarters slid open and there he was, standing completely still and watching out over her balcony. He turned when she entered.

"Mistress, welcome," he said softly, no feeling in his tone. "My designation is M7-97. I have been programmed as your personal domestic synth, to assist you and obey your commands."

She watched his mouth move and observed the way he moved. He reminded her of X6-88.

"Great," she muttered. "You can first assist me by shutting up and letting me think." She had to make him remember, but how? If he didn't remember her, chances were, he wouldn't remember anyone or anything else either. She'd have to start small. 

"Do you remember me, Danse? From before?"

"Ma'am?"

"Sorry... do you remember the life we had on the surface?"

"I do not remember ever having been on the surface."

"Right, sorry."

"Why do you refer to me as Danse?"

"That's your name," she said through a sad smile, blinking away tears.

"I was told humans have names, and all synths are given designations. My designation is M7-97."

"That is the designation the Institute gave you, yes." She sighed and paused, thinking. "What if I give you the command to address yourself as Danse?"

"I am programmed to obey any order you issue that does not compromise the Institute."

"Ok, Danse," she smiled at him. "Now that the first order of business is done, will you have a drink with me? It's been a long day."

"If your dehydrated, I can fetch you some water, Ma'am, " Danse offered.

"No," she said sternly. She poured two fingers of whiskey info a glass and handed it to him.

"Synths are not permitted to partake in alcohol."

"Well, I'm ordering you to bend the rules for tonight. You will drink this whiskey only if that is your choice. Not mine, not the Institute's, not Father's. Those are my orders: exhibit your free will to choose to drink or not drink."

Danse watched as she knocked several glasses back before tipping the glass to his lips and tasting only the faintest amount before packing it back on the desk.

"Well? What did you think?"

"Of the whiskey? It's bitter, and burns the tongue a bit. Can't say I like it."

"Well, that's quite alright," Jo smiled. "You're entitled to your opinion, but in glad you took a chance and made the choice for yourself."

Danse nodded slowly and placed the glass down gently.

"Ma'am," he began. "I've been told that alcohol is a substance used to lower one's inhibitions. You should know that if you wish to resume our sexual relationship, I would not need it."

Jo let out a low chuckle.

"Oh? And why is that?" She asked, pouring herself another drink. Danse's face turned red and he looked away. 

"You need only issue a command. I am able to function appropriately. You are an attractive woman, and though I am a synth, I have the physiological body of a healthy adult male," he explained. Jo knocked her shot back and looked him straight in the eye. 

"No, Danse. Again, I will not bid you to do anything, save make your own choices. The whiskey was not meant as a way to get you to sleep with me. But, I will admit, I had a selfish reasons for wanting you to choose to drink." Jo stared into the bottom of her freshly poured glass of whiskey, losing herself in its amber hue. 

"Ma'am?"

"I guess I had hoped that I could make you remember me, and it would give me the courage to tell you something," she said somberly. He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. She realized he was waiting, but shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "It's nothing, though. I'm tired, I think I'll rest for a bit. I'll meet you in the morning, okay?"

Danse nodded stiffly and offered a quick goodbye before leaving her to her lonely quarters.  

He didn't remember her. All the time they spent together, and he didn't remember a damn thing. How could she ever convince him to leave if he was loyal to her enemy? If he couldn't even choose to drink or make love without being commanded, his could he ever choose to leave the Institute? 

 


	33. Chapter 33

Danse looked at the small frame of the girl curled up next to him on the couch, her mop of blond hair draped over her eyes as she slept on his shoulder. The closeness made him uncomfortable, but she seemed to need comfort after her ordeal. 

Over the course of his first few weeks at his new home, he had watching out for Anabel as he promised. He taught her how to hunt and fish, his to cook a meal that wasn't tasteless (a trick Jo had taught him), how to secure a perimeter, and gave her a few history lessons where he could. He couldn't teach her what she really needed to know: acceptance. Acceptance that she was a synth, that her life was a lie, that she replaced another person, and that her family was gone. 

He couldn't offer her these lessons because he hadn't learned them himself. 

Danse scooped her up in his arms, marveling at how small she was, and began to walk to her cot, which offered her some privacy but not much. It was tucked into an alcove out of the way, which was more privacy than most of the synth's here had. A few people raised eyebrows, but Danse would only scowl and continue on. 

He found himself settling into the role of protector quite well. He almost felt guilty at how well, if he was honest with himself. She was so fragile and vulnerable, and he had a need to be needed. He would, on occasion, find himself thinking about her in less...platonic... ways, and would immediately feel the guilt wash over him. 

He loved Jo; just as much now as he did then. He missed her, yearned for her, and apparently, called it for her in his sleep. He could remember her laughter, as light and carefree as bells, but the details of her face were beginning to get lost in her absence: the shadows her lashes cast on her cheeks on a moonlit night, the freckles lightly scattered across her nose, or the exact shade of her irises. He often kaif in bed at night and wondered where she was and what she was doing, and if she was lying awake at that very moment, thinking of him. 

Anabel stirred when he laid her down on her cot. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and she smiled up a at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. Danse let out a muffled cry, and for a split second, forgot himself. He savored the warmth of her lips on his, but the image of Jo entered his mind and he retreated in shock and shame.  

"What's wrong, Ryan? I thought... do you not want me?" She asked, her voice cracking with hurt. 

"I..." he began. "Anabel, you're a beautiful girl, but I'm involved with someone. Even if I wasn't, I'm not what you need. I'm sorry if I lead you to believe otherwise."

Anabel raised up on her elbows to face him.

"You're involved with someone? Who?  Because I've noticed you've only talked to me since I've been here. I can tell that you're attracted to me, and I'm attracted to you. So we'd be two consenting adults looking to blow off some steam. No one need ever know."

Then, right in front of him, she began to undress. She stepped off her cot and let her nightgown fall to her ankles. She began to play with her nipple she and bit her lower lip seductively,  swaying her hips as she did. Danse wondered how many men she'd successfully seduced this way. She was obviously trained in this regard. Was she a spy? If so, for whom? Danse suddenly felt angry, knowing that this was just one more place he wouldn't be safe. 

"Fuck me, Ryan, please. I'll let you cum in me, or fuck my face. It's been so long since I've felt close to anyone. I need to feel like I matter, even if for a few moments." 

He walked close enough to her that he could smell her natural scent, and looked down at her, ghosting his lips over her ear. 

"Then get a dog. I'm spoken for." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because it was originally was supposed to hold two scenes, but scene 2 will be long. 
> 
> Sooooo I hope people are following the plot ok. If you get confused, let me know and I can rewrite some things that will make it easier to understand.


	34. Chapter 34

"Why isn't she back yet? I gave her express instructions to return immediately after downloading the necessary data," Maxson barked as he paced the room. Cade watched him, his eyes filled with pity, which only angered the Elder further.

"Elder Maxson, sir, she may not have access to the data you're seeking. Perhaps she had to obtain higher security status in order to retrieve it?"

"Or maybe she ran off! If she found out that Scribe Haylen was executed, and by my hand, no less, she won't return. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Teagan! And if she does return... that what do I tell her?"

"Sir, if I may, I had advised you against such counsel. Executing our own will only create unease within our ranks. Last week, these men and women were ready to die... not for glory, or even the litany, but for you. You're a great leader, sir, but right now you've shaken their beliefs."

"I cannot appear to be weak, Knight-Captain. We cannot allow dissent to turn into outright treason, which in this case, it did. I could not offer Haylen the courtesy of mercy."

"Frankly speaking, Elder Maxson, was that because you were truly concerned about an epidemic of treason? Or did this have more to do with the fact that she was attempting to rekindle the romance between your fiancée and your enemy?" Cade didn't beat around the bush, and for a moment Maxson wondered if the man had forgotten who he was addressing. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath before responding. 

"There is no romance between Paladin Lahey and the abomination, that is a fact. Furthermore, I don't like your tone Knight-Captain. You will remember who is Elder when you address me." He glowered at the bald man until he backed down. 

"Apologies, Elder Maxson. I misspoke; it won't happen again. Perhaps Paladin Lahey is getting some R and R prior to her return. She does have a lot on her plate."

"No, Josephine would return immediately. I know her enough to know that. We were supposed to have already been married, but I wanted to prove that I trust her. What if I was wrong though?"

"Sir, you are not known for poor decisions. She will return; you've ensured it with the knowledge of Danse's whereabouts."

"Yes...I suppose I have."

 

_______________________________

 

Jo woke up, her head groggy and eyelids heavy, and her head feeling as though it were birthing a full grown adult. The lights in the room were not the bright white of her quarters on the Institute, not the cold fluorescents of the Prydwen. Instead, a single flickering bulb hung overhead, swaying back and forth softly with the draft entering from between the wood panels. Wherever she was, it was dirty, dim, and so very much the Commonwealth. She was strapped to a dirty bunk, she observed. She was thankfully fully clothed, but that did not help her sudden panic. The last thing she remembered was pocketing the holotape following the downloading of data from a hacked terminal. 

"Ah, you've awoken." A familiar voice from the shadows, followed by silence. She turned her face to the direction of the sound, but heard no more. Several moments passed before Danse emerged, dressed in typical wastelander clothing.

"Danse? What are you doing? Let me go!" She demanded, realizing how helpless she was. 

"Apologies, Ma'am, but in not authorized to release you. I've been ordered to guard and care for you indefinitely, but you are not to leave the premises."

"Danse!" She shouted, testing her bindings. "Why am I here?  Why are you keeping me here?" She continued to struggle, but he only lit a few candles and clasped a hand over her mouth. 

"You were going to betray us. You were witnessed stealing protected information, which you uploaded to a holotape with a digital signature which traces back to the Brotherhood of Steel. Father has confiscated this holotape, and ordered your immediate exhile." He paused, releasing the hand over mouth, knowing she would scream no more. "I've been ordered to detain you until the Brotherhood is destroyed, both for the sake of the Institute, and for yours." 

"What do you mean for mine? You're the one who has me chained to a bed!"

"Indeed. It is no secret that you are to marry Elder Arthur Maxson. However, what is a secret, is that you are carrying his child. As one last kindness, Father has decided to protect you and your unborn child from the fate of that egotistical maniac. You will both live, but Arthur Maxson will not."

"Danse! Listen to me! Do you think after everything that he's done to me that I want to go back there? The only reason I agreed to any of this was to protect you, and _our_ child."

Danse's eyes went wide and he sat down clumsily at the bedside. She knew something was different then, that some kind of recollection or emotion had surfaced. She saw shock and awe in a face that never showed even the slightest bit of human emotion.

"You have to remember me, Richard! Please! Don't let our baby be corrupted by those bastards who tried to take away everything that you are. I'm begging you, untie me, we'll run away to some place where no one knows us or has even heard of synths!"

Danse didn't say a word, only started at her in utter disbelief. He finally rose from the chair and wordlessly walked out of the shack, leaving her calling after him in desperation.  

 

 

_________________________________________

 

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you! They saw her being kidnapped! Slung like a sack of tatos into a big cart pulled by two Brahmin! A big guy, like you, they said."

"Yeah but Kessler likes to say all sorts of things. How do we know she's right? If I'm caught, I won't even make it to her, they'll kill me on sight. "

"Look, I'm going to head back to the Commonwealth, and I'm going to find Jo. With our without you. The way I see it, you have two choices: be a man and go after her, or search for the answers to questions about why you're a synth and not a man! She's in trouble, we don't have time to waste!"

"He's right Danse, " Piper chirped. "She was seen heading directly north from the city core. If we're lucky, we can head them off in a few days."

"Danse, you can't leave!" Whined Anabel. At the sound of her voice, Danse stood.

"Let's go then. I'd die before I let anything happen to her anyway."


	35. Chapter 35

"Ma'am, please. You must eat." Danse pleaded, holding a bowl of razorgrain porridge out to her. 

"I will do no such thing. Chances are, my son has ordered you to kill me! Listen to me, Richard! This isn't you! Think of all the things that man is forcing you to do. Ask yourself if this is what you would do if not ordered to, if this wild be a choice you would make yourself!"

Danse sighed and put the bowl down beside her and grumbled to himself, a strange thing for a synth to do, she noted. He went back to his usual spot, a chair propped against the only exit. He had untied her and let her walk around the small shack, but rarely left his post. It seemed he was waiting for something, but he refused to answer her when she asked him if that were true. He sat in utter silence, unmoving with his eyes closed and back rigid. 

"No."

"No... what?" She snapped.

"You asked if I would do this if given the choice. I would not."

"But you do have the choice, Danse. We could leave, right now, and start over. Maybe you'll even get your memories back in time. If nothing else, you'll be free to be yourself," she told him gently. Danse looked at her, seeming to consider her words. A look of despair crossed his features in a flash, but just as quickly disappeared under his stern and stony features. She struck a chord, and she knew it. 

"We will remain here as ordered, until the Brotherhood is destroyed."

"Why is Shawn so hellbent on killing people on the surface? Is this personal?" When again he didn't answer, she moved closer to him. "Danse, please, at least if you're going to lock me up like a prisoner, speak to me, okay? Look, I'll eat. Just... just don't shut me out."

"I believe it is personal."

"Is it because of me? Because I joined them?"  

"Ma'am, with all due respect, please stop asking questions. I do not know the answers to them, and they are becoming increasingly irritating."

Jo sat back and sulked, and didn't speak another word to him for the rest of the day. 

_____________________________

Danse must have stepped out of his regular routine, because when Jo woke one morning, he was gone. Of course, the door was locked as it usually was whenever he had to step out. Jo boiled some water on the worn hotplate, and made herself a cup of weak coffee. Hopefully Danse would return soon; they had run out of dry provisions the night before, and she was starving. 

Hours passed, and Jo daydreamed about the life that she would convince Danse was worth living. She wanted him by her side, no matter how far they had to run. Her emotions swung back and forth, as much like a pendulum as the flickering light bulb above her head. The silence made her want to scream, and the more she tried to not think of Danse, the more her mind was flooded with him. 

When she stumbled out of that vault... she had nothing. No home, no family, no protection. She had been terrified and hungry, always scavenging for her next meal. Her neighborhood in Sanctuary Hills was nothing but ash and rubble, its inhabitants long since dead. The decorations had still hung in windows as she had walked by, leaving her feeling as though she were trapped between two periods of time, two existential truths. She knew she wasn't the woman of her past-- arranging fundraisers and enjoying cocktail parties, sipping champagne under the stars with Nate and buying into his carefully crafted lie-- naive, sheltered, meek. Yet she also knew she wasn't like anyone else in the wasteland: hardened, cold, calculating, battle ready and instinctive. Every adaptation she had undergone, every part of her that was made survival-ready, every bit of courage and acceptance she had learned to exhibit, was a trait that she had learned from Danse and tried to imitate. 

She even learned how to love from him.

Nate had played at love like a toddler with matchbox cars, always smashing them into things with little consideration for their longevity. She had been afraid to ask him how many women he had had affairs with, but looking back, she was sure it was more than the one nameless beauty of whom she had only caught a fleeting glance. Even after he came home that night, drunk, with a tiny baby in his arms, he continued to spend late nights at the office. Jo tried to love Shawn as her own, but though she loved him, she was ever reminded of the affair that led to his creation. 

Danse was faithful. Loyal to a fault. Honest. Selfless. Courageous. Beautiful. But now he was as distant and cold as Antarctica. At least, how it was. Maybe that had changed too.

Danse returned with a sack slung over his muscled shoulder, and brushed the wasteland dust from his clothes, grumbling about the disgusting nature of the surface. Jo let him ramble and prepared a pot of water for the razor grain porridge, and Danse began to cut up the radstag quietly. When he finished, he washed the blood from his hands and settled back on to his usual perch, but not before giving Jo's shoulder a warm squeeze. Her heart fluttered at the contract, but before she could put two thoughts together, the warmth was gone and she felt alone again. 

"Danse, do you remember anything about me, about anything, from before?" She asked, one again hopeful but mentally preparing for the answer. He glanced up and her and she noted his hands fidget slightly. He looked away and she could swear he was blushing. 

"I...seem to recall.... holding you against me. Then... you smiled," he admitted. Jo's eyes brimmed with tears and she ran to him, throwing herself to her knees before him and hugging his knees.

"Oh thank God," she wept, relieved. "I was so afraid that you'd forgotten me, forgotten us. I'm so happy you are starting to remember!" She pulled herself into his lap, which he seemed to awkwardly welcome, and rested her head on his shoulder. He only vaguely smelled like Danse, she could smell soap and shampoo mostly, but it still smelled welcoming and warm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving him to settle his own on her waist. 

"I am trying, Ma'am."

"Richard, don't call me 'Ma'am'. Say my name, please," she begged.

"Josephine," he whispered info her hair, so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

"I know you don't remember much, but I'll keep reminding you until you do: I love you. I've loved you from the first time I saw you, I just didn't know it then. If there a way to make you remember, we'll find it, and if there isn't, we'll start fresh. You'll see you aren't the man the Institute wants you to believe you are, you're so much more. And I'll show you that. We're a force together, Richard. We'll get through this, I promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. Not my best. Might rewrite. There's a point to this, I swear.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Somebody gonna getta hurt real bad."  
>  ~ Russell Peters

Rhys had avoided Maxson since Haylen's execution. 

His eyes were red and puffy from the tears he had shed for his lost lover. During the day he could fool anyone into thinking he had put his grief in order to redirect it to the Institute, but the nights were long without Haylen's touch, and he had only her memory to keep him company. He'd give anything to see her face one more time, to hear her voice and her laugh, to stare into her clear blue eyes and feel pain and regret slip away. 

Soon, he found his mind was losing its grasp on those memories, and the only things he had left was the pain and regret. He had found joy to replace his anger with Jessica Haylen, but now there was only a void. He was sure that's where his heart had been, but Maxon had ripped it from him the same way he ripped Haylen's life from her. 

He couldn't remember this much rage or inner turmoil ever being present before. Haylen used to call him bitter once upon a time-- if he was bitter then what was he now? Where he had once looked up to and envied the man, now he felt a sense of shame accompanied by pity. The man had been raised into a warrior, not a tender human being, and yet even the fiercest warrior kings were able to feel compassion and comraderie, and to grant mercy in place of harsh punishment. Arthur Maxson was not one of those kings. True, he was the heir to the Maxson bloodline, a prince of sorts, but he was a leader only by birthright. A true leader would capture the hearts of his people, not intimidate them into obedience.  

No, he wasn't bitter. He was vengeful, and he would suffer no more poetic ideations for a walking dead man. 

When Maxson summoned him to the foredeck one early morning, Rhys felt the tension in his chest expand to encompass his entire being. He wanted to put a bullet right between those icy grey eyes. He wanted to wrap his hands around Maxson's throat and watch his eyes as the life left him, to whisper that Haylen was avenged, but his anger had to wait. It was not the right time to strike. So instead, he answered the summons and met with Maxson man to man. 

Neither spoke for a moment as Maxson poured a glass of scotch, offering it to Rhys, which he refused. He would take no peace offering from the man, no matter how subtle. Maxson sat on the more comfortable of the sofas, gesturing for Rhys to sit, which he again refused. The Elder let out an exasperated sigh and sipped his drink, pondering his approach.

"Knight Rhys, we have not had a chance to speak since the unfortunate episode regarding Scribe Haylen. I realize my words were... unkind. I offer my apologies and my condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, sir," Rhys said, his voice monotonous and dripping with contempt.

"Good. Now, I have a mission that I must entrust to you, and unfortunately I must revoke your bereavement leave. I dispatched Sentinel Lahey to the Institute to do recon and gather intelligence. She has not yet returned. Normally I would not be so concerned, but she has been spotted in the Commonwealth north by locals, in what appears to be a kidnap attempt. You will leave immediately, recon the area, and extract Sentinel Lahey to return her to the Prydwen. Do you have any questions concerning your orders, Knight?" 

"Will I have the assistance of a team, sir?"

"The nature of the support you will receive will be determined by the force of those who have imprisoned her. Until you have successfully reconned the area, I will be unable to grant permission for any more than one individual to assist you. Paladin Brandis will serve as your commanding officer. He needs to ease back in to field work, and this assignment is suitable. Should Paladin Brandis determine you require more fire power, it will be delivered. Dismissed, Knight."

Rhys wanted to put his fist right through the man's skull, but he reserved his anger. The condolences Maxson had given him were cold, clipped, and entirely insufficient for the heartache he had caused. No amount of bereavement leave would bring Haylen back, but to deny it was a slap in the face. How could he expect Rhys to keep his wits about him? 

The short answer, Rhys realized, was that he didn't expect him to. Rhys was now expendable. Brandis had recovered from his ordeal relatively well, and he could accomplish this mission alone. Maxson wanted him to go fight with a foggy mind and shaking hands. _If_ he somehow managed to bring her back safely... no-- it was better to put a bullet between her eyes. He end her misery and get his revenge at the same time. 

The image of Maxson, fists clenched as he pounded on the steel walls of his quarters, shredded his pillows and wept over Sentinel Lahey's photos was a pleasant one. He didn't want Maxson dead; he wanted Maxson to _feel_ dead. He wanted the heart of the revered Elder to break every time he spotted a face that resembled hers in a crowd. He wanted him to choke and stutter as he told tales of her bravery. He wanted him to feel the ever aching void for the rest of his miserable days until the only thing that felt really was the impenetrable guilt that he himself had caused her death. 

Yes. 

It wouldn't bring Haylen back, he knew. Nothing could. He would never again know her love. But Arthur Maxson would come to justice. He might be untouchable in his flying fortress, he might have an army and allies, but Rhys had nothing, not anymore. He had nothing left to lose, and he would destroy the man who took away everything. Not just for him, but for Haylen, and Danse, Lahey, and everyone else the man had broken. 

Yes.

He would finish this, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever had a friend murdered? Well, let me tell you, it feels kind of like this.


	37. Chapter 37

Six weeks. 

It had been six long weeks since she woke up in this tiny hovel. Six weeks of trying to convince Danse of a past he couldn't remember. Six weeks of razor grain porridge and bloatfly steak. Of uncomfortable silence, nightmares, loneliness so thick it ached, and fear. 

Occasionally, Danse would remember things: Elder Maxson's promotion, his mother, Cutler or Paladin Brandis. The memories he had of her were so basic that she was unsure if he was remembering or just trying to picture what she told him. Still, on cold nights, she would curl up on his lap in front of the old fire pit and gaze into its flames until she fell asleep.

This night was no different. A rad storm approached from the south, more severe than usual, and the temperature plummeted. Danse lay on the floor with his back against the old sofa, his forearms resting on a propped knee. He looked so peaceful sitting there, but Jo knew there was more to him than what appeared on the surface. She knew there were thoughts brewing that he was afraid to voice, memories he was sure weren't real and so he'd never speak of them. She wanted to assure him, to tell him she was there for him and see him through. But, she couldn't tell him. 

He didn't know her. Six weeks and she was beginning to lose hope that she would ever see the man she fell in love with. Sure, he had stopped calling her "Ma'am," quoted Institute policy less and less, and had even once lovingly brushed the hair from her cheek when he thought she was sleeping. He never mentioned a life with her, but her head raced with thoughts of him: their life before, of the life she wanted, or of how she imagined he was before he became a synth. It was heartbreaking though, to have such lounging unreciprocated, to feel it in your very bones and not have a word of reply. 

She had resolved to begin anew, to stop trying to convince him that he did love her and just try to stay fresh. It would be difficult, she knew, but he was with it. She had to try. For his sake as much as her own. 

"Jo?" Danse's voice interrupted her thoughts. 

"Hmm?"

"Why did you betray the Institute?" He asked, with no malice to his words. Jo shifted uncomfortably and sat down beside him, mimicking his pose. She closed her eyes and remembered all she had endured because of the fanatical faction that aimed for human perfection and fell miserably short. 

"They took my son, murdered my husband. My own son, raised by those heartless scientists, left me on ice and had me fight my way across the Commonwealth, and not because he wanted me to find him, but because he wanted to see if I'd survive. He takes people, good people, and kills them in order to turn them into synths. These machines that were originally made to make our lives easier somehow became conscious, sentient beings who are able to love and feel pain. But Shawn won't accept that. He still believes that synths are machines, incapable of thoughts and feelings bitten out of free will. He'd sooner lump all those spontaneous emotions to faulty programming than admit that his creations have outgrown him. 

"You made me realize that synths deserve a chance to be free, to live and be loved, just like anyone else. Went should they be punished? They didn't choose to be made any more than I did to be born. They live, breathe, bleed and work just as hard as anyone else, often harder. They can be brave and kind, or cowardly and cruel, just like people. Most of all, they can't stop their heart from loving any less than I can."

Jo's eyes glossed over, and Danse kicked his lips nervously. She wondered I'd he would kiss her, but instead he blushed and looked away. She started into the flames as they licked the rough chimney and wished to whatever gods were listening that he would remember her and that this wasn't all in vain. 

"Danse...I need to ask--" Jo's words were cut off when his chapped, warm lips crashed only hers. She let out a small whimper in her shock which only seemed to urge him on. His hands explored her waist as explored her mouth with his own, his breaths coming heavily as she felt his arousal grow. He pulled her into his lap, grinding her pelvis against his tenting trousers, rocking her roughly against him to maintain the friction between their bodies. He pulled away suddenly and gripped her face with his palms. 

"I don't remember much Josephine, but I don't need to know my past to know I'm falling in love with you." 

Jo wept softly and kissed his mouth, her own quivering with emotion. 

"I love you," she whispered into his ear as she grazed her lips over it, savoring the shiver she elicited from him as she felt his shoulders with her palm. She ran her fingertips down his arms and drew circles in his palms, taking each line of his hand. She sucked on each of his fingers gently, pawing at his hard cock in an effort to get him to give in. Instead, Danse removed his shirt, and that's when she saw it. 

The overlapping scars, the areas where Danse had been hit with flying shrapnel when she put herself between him an the explosion that seemed like an eternity ago... it was gone. A few scars remained, but she didn't see any of the scars she remembered treating on the battlefield, not one. Her hands stilled, though he kept grinding against her, but soon, he too ceased. He looked at her with heavy, lidded eyes that screamed what she had been begging for a whisper of, but now she froze in terror.

"You're not Danse," she whispered.


	38. Chapter 38

"Jo, I can explain everything--"

"Explain? I know Danse, I know every inch of him! You're not him!" She screamed, shoving him backwards. He stepped backwards into the rickety table to avoid her strikes, and it toppled over at the weight of him. Annoyed, he picked up the tabled and slid it forcefully against the wall. Jo flinched at his outburst, and backed up.

"Sit down!" He ordered, jabbing a rigid finger at the table's accompanying chair, which was not in better shape whatsoever. Danse remembered himself and took a deep breath to calm himself. "Please, just sit."

Jo did as she was commanded, sitting uncomfortably across from Danse, behind the now wobbling table. She glared at him for a long time as he watched her, the pride in his eyes not faltering for an instant.

"I... I guess that it's insufficient to apologize for my deceit, but you have to know: I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Director Lahey thought that if I played the role of the mind-wiped synth long enough, he could kill two birds with one stone. He knew that if you could be isolated long enough, he could cause the other factions to war amongst each other, effectively wiping them out without us losing a single life. That's the core purpose of the Institute: to progress humanity to the point that we overcome or desire for war, that we live peacefully and can one day cure the disease that is the surface world so we can return and save it. We can live and be whole. No more supermutants, ghouls, irradiated water or raiders.

"Like you, I've seen first hand the horrors that Elder Maxson commits. He uses his birthright as a crutch to destroy what's good in the world. Instead of curing ghouls, he'd kill them. Instead of reversing FEV, he'd bomb an entire area of civilians to kill one supermutant. He leaves his men to die, his scribes are assigned in ratios of one to one with knights who've barely been promoted, sending those kids to their deaths. He murders his own soldiers!

"I know you don't agree with him; I know that since you stepped out of the vault, you've been trying to make the world a better place. I want the same things. Director Lahey wakes the same things. So yes, I'd love to see the Railroad or your Minutemen blast his ass out of the sky. The whole time we've been here, Maxson is fighting off two separate armies, and is losing. He can't hurt you anymore, I swear to you that he'll never touch you again as long as I'm breathing." Danse placed a hand on her belly, which has started to swell, though not enough to be seen under her baggy fatigues.

"How did..."

"How did I know? That he took you against your will? Or that you're carrying his child?"

"I...What's the second reason?"  She asked, feeling her anger turn to something akin to a rage made of white hot metal, still glowing from the forge. "You said there were two birds for your one stone?"

"Ah," he answered non-committally, standing up to pour a cup of coffee. He stirred the cup more than necessary as he processed his thoughts. "M7-97 will be reclaimed. He is a prototype, the only synth model able to procreate. It's absolutely necessary that we retrieve him and document his genetic differences."

"Why? Is Shawn hoping to replace humanity with synths capable of reproduction? Are you another test subject?" Jo's lip quivered as she tried to imagine the passion she'd find in Danse's-- _her_ Danse's face when he discovered he'd have to fight even harder to find his individuality. 

"No," Danse said, shaking his head. "My part in the experiment is over. I provided my DNA, but otherwise I don't have any part in these experiments. I wish I did, but I'm a soldier, not a scientist."

"A soldier..." Jo's eyes went wide. "Your DNA! You... you're not..."

"No. I'm not a synth. I'm as human as you." His voice was soft, almost seductive as he lightly placed his hands on her hips, brushing his thumbs over her fatigues. 

"But why? You betrayed the Brotherhood, and everyone you called a friend."

"Yes, I did. I'm not proud of the fact I betrayed them, but they'd sooner kill me than oust Elder Maxson. I've seen him do unspeakable things Jo, I couldn't be part of that anymore. He's killed more people than he's saved, but the people he calls his enemies only want peace and longevity. I left the Brotherhood and turned to Director Lahey, who was happy to accommodate me, as he would you, if you decided to abandon the Brotherhood of Steel and rejoin our cause.

"Jo, I meant what I said. I love you, I don't know how I could allow this to happen, but I fell for you. You're supposed to be my enemy, but I wasn't counting on you--"

"No!" She cried. "You talk about peace and wanting a better world, but you sent a better man to suffer in your stead! You betrayed everyone who loved you because you were too much of a coward to stand up to Maxson yourself! Well, guess what? Danse-- the Danse that I love-- he did stand up to him, toe to toe ! He's everything that you're not, and you could never hope to be even remotely like him! Kill me ifyou want, but I will never work with the Institute, and I will never, ever accept you for anything more than the snake that you are!"

"He's not even human! He's my goddamned clone, only able to function because of a chip in his brain! I'm here, I'm human! I can give you the life you deserve. He's no better than a fucking robot!" He snarled, moving his hands from her waist to her shoulders and shaking her roughly. Jo sobbed, fearing he would kill her and seeing the look of a madman on his face. 

Suddenly, a crash came from outside the cabin. He reached for his laser rifle, but before he could fire, the door was kicked open and two figures appeared in the doorway and shot searing laser fire into his chest. He groaned in agony and collapsed against a wall, silent at last. Jo's heart kept in her throat, and she had to remember that this wasn't her lover laying across from her, but seeing him was unsettling nonetheless. When the shock wore off, her eyes swept to the two figures with hope. 

Her smile faltered when, instead of seeing the smiles of her heroic lover and snarky friend, she looked into the faces of her Rhys and Brandis. Rhys' face was set in his usual scowl, but Brandis' held something new: contempt. 

"Rhys, Brandis," she breathed. "Thank you. Please, I need to find Danse, do you have a vertibird with you?"

"We do, but you're going back to the Prydwen. Maxson's orders." Brandis growled.

"No! Please, Rhys I can't go back." Jo was surprised to hear herself beg for Rhys' help, but she couldn't bring herself to think about life with that sick monster. She had no pride left to lose.  

Brandis, however turned out to be the harsh one, not Rhys. He hauled her to her feet and roughly shoved her towards the door without so much as asking if she was alright. Brandis quickly got her buckled into the vertibird while the pilot got ready for takeoff. Soon, the Commonwealth was far below them, and Jo's fears only rose higher still.

"Rhys, I'm begging you! Don't bring me back there! You know what he'll do to me. I can't... if Haylen were in my place would you be so quick to turn her over?" She shouted over the whirring of the engines. Rhys wouldn't look at her for a long time. He seemed conflicted, deep in thought over her words.

"Haylen's dead." He said suddenly, somberly. 

Before Jo could react, before she could ask how or when her friend had died, Rhys shoved Brandis out of the vertibird and towards his death far below.


	39. Chapter 39

They'd been traveling for weeks, but finally, Danse and his fellow rescuers found the cabin that Jo was seen being taken to. The surrounding grass was brown and tall, swaying in the light breeze that whistled through the old, dead elm. Danse felt the tension in his stomach when he discerned no movement coming from within. He ordered three men to cover the exits and eliminate and chance of escape while he approached the worn and collapsing door, which was left open a few inches.

His apprehension grew.

Danse approached slowly, making as little noise as possible. He didn't know whether she was alone with one kidnapper, or where she was situated, and it terrified him to realize he'd be entering blind. If a firefight broke out, he could very likely endanger Jo by putting her in the line of fire. He held his breath and gently pushed the door open, grimacing at the loud creak it sounded in alarm. He dipped for cover and waited, but he heard nothing but a soft groan coming from within.

Forgetting procedure, Danse barreled inside the dilapidated shack, expecting to see Jo lying bloody and broken. Instead, he saw only one body, lying face down on the floor, in a pool of blood. The body, obviously a man from height and stature, wore familiar garb, but Danse couldn't tell where it was from wince it was covered in burns. On closer inspection, he saw the head was shaved and the hair styled in typical military fashion. Carefully, Danse approached the figure and gently rolled him over, hoping to get some answer for where Jo could have gone.

He fell back on his haunches when he saw the man's face. Though he was bloody and dirty, it was unmistakable.

He stared into his own image.

"What the....fuck?" Danse whispered. The man's eyes fluttered open, and Danse saw his own face reflected in the eyes that gazed up at him. "What is this? Where's Jo?" He demanded, almost as a prayer to whatever god was listening.

"I...was wondering... when you'd find me..." groaned the man, his eyes rolling back in their sockets.

"Who are you?" Danse demanded.

The man smirked, then grimaced as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

"I think... you know."

"Know what?" Danse fumed while the man stared up at him with a cocktail grin.

"I'm fucking Gandhi... who do you think I am?" He groaned again and put his hand on his injured ribs. "I'm former Paladin... Richard Danse... of the Brotherhood of Steel."

"That's impossible. He's dead!"

"Impossible? No... not really. I'm Danse, you're a... fucking copy." The imposter hissed.

"You should really watch your mouth before I'm forced to shut it permanently," Danse warned. 

"I was never dead... you fool. There is a major difference between us that was miscalculated... in your programming. As a human, I could see Maxson doing evil, but you? You were programmed to be loyal to him, and you couldn't even... fucking see the psychopath he'd become. You're a... fucking machine, and you can only ever be what you were programmed to be... a tool for the Institute."

"That's not true. I would never work for the Institute. My goal is to destroy them once and for all, and I'll start with you." Danse reached for his laser rifle, but the importer's hand grabbed his wrist before he could.

"Don't bother... I'm dying anyway. It won't fucking kill you to shut up and listen to what I have to say if you want to see Jo ever again." He released Danse's wrist but the Paladin didn't reach for his gun this time, instead he sat back and relaxed beside the dying man.

"I don't know where you went... when you left the Commonwealth, you left her with that monster. You have no idea what he did to her.... do you? We have people on the inside... listening and watching. You left her you piece of shit, and... he... fucking raped her... over and over again. He sent her down to us, to betray her son, and she went willingly... to keep you safe! Director Lahey was so angry... his own mother, tainted by the Maxson seed... He would have a sibling, a sibling who could destroy everything he stood for, everything he built...

"I volunteered to take her away from the Institute, where she could do no harm. The other factions would search for her, and attack Maxson for his actions against Whisper, against their General. She disappeared on his watch, after all... So they surrounded Maxson, and are grouping together to destroy the Brotherhood. How do you think he's going to react when she isn't extracted, when she isn't even found? He'll be distracted for sure, but to hear she disappeared while carrying his child? He'll make bad decisions... lose countless lives. Each soldier who dies because of his... disrupted leadership is... one less that we have to face in the war to come.

"Josephine... she wasn't just a tool. I tried to make her into one, to imagine her as... no more than a means to an end, but she's different. I had to force her to think of me as she did you, she thought I _was_ you...She sees the good in everyone, and she's strong...so strong. I never meant... to fall in love with her, but I did--"

"You son of a bitch!" Danse cried and lunged for him.

"You don't... understand... she figured it out. She knew... I wasn't you!" The imposter gasped, brushing Danse away. "I told her... I loved her, told her... I wanted us to start over... be together, but it's not me... she loves. She doesn't want me... who the fuck... knows why, but she wants you...synth... she wants you."

"Where is she!" Danse ground out through bared teeth, grabbing the imposter by the lapels.

"Rhys...Brandis... took her...Prydwen...Maxson..." Danse grasped his hand firmly as he struggled for air.

"Easy journey, soldier," Danse said as the importer's hand went limp in his own, and Danse felt as though a part of him died along with him.


	40. Chapter 40

The vertibird roared through the air as the Lancer adjusted his course north-east. Jo and Rhys didn't speak a word, but Jo could sense his pain in his silence. Her friend, his lover.... dead. The thought was as loud in her mind as the blades of the vertibird, screaming at her as they mocked her and reminded her off her shortcomings. She had to remind herself that she hadn't been there, and she couldn't possibly have known that Haylen was going to die, but despite not knowing the circumstances surrounding her death, she felt she was to blame. 

They camped out in near Sanctuary, though she knew they couldn't stay long. Soon Maxson would be looking for them. The Lancer, Maxwell, was getting anxious, she could tell, but she wasn't really worried her would run off; his legs had stopped working years ago, though whether due to injury or disease she didn't ask. She lit a fire while the two men prepared a simple meal of cram and razorgrain porridge, but she was too stressed to even consider eating. 

She stared into the flickering flames as the two men ate, wanting to say something but not finding the words. She didn't need to bother. When Maxwell finished, he laid out his sleeping bag and was snoring within minutes, and she didn't expect Rhys to say much, if anything, to her. But, after a while, his voice startled her out of her thoughts.

"He's wrong, you know. Maxson. I guess I didn't want to admit it before, but he's wrong. I'm glad Danse got away."

"How did Haylen die?" Jo asked quietly after a moment, afraid to meet his eyes. He swallowed hard and tossed another log on the fire.

"She uh...she was caught trying to smuggle notes between you and Danse. They labeled her a traitor. Gunned her down like a dog." Rhys' voice broke, and Jo was surprised at the amount of raw emotion he was displaying.

"Rhys, I'm so sorry. I never would have wanted her to--"

"I know."

A long moment of silence passed between them, the only sound was the crackling of the flames.

"She'd be proud of you, I think," Jo assured him.

"Lahey," he began. "I know you think you need to comfort me and everything, but just don't. You didn't know Haylen the way I did, you really don't need to try to tell me how she would feel." His voice didn't have its usual hostility. No, Rhys just sounded...tired.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she offered an olive branch. "I can't imagine what you feel, if I lost Danse...I mean, I thought I had, but...how did you know that was an imposter and not him?" 

"I heard him speaking to you."

"You...heard everything?" She asked, her lips trembling.

"Every word. Look, Lahey, I don't care. If you think I rescued you out of the goodness of my heart... I didn't. I'm not a saint. I heard what he did to you, but that's not why I saved you from... your kidnapper. I saved you because right now, you're the most valuable person in the Commonwealth. You're carrying the Maxson heir. Do you know what it will do to him to know he had a kid, and that I took that from him, the way he took Haylen from me? I want him to hurt like that! I want him to wake up every day until he dies and know he caused the death of his only child."

"So what are you going to do with me, Rhys? Kill my child? Kill me? Is that how you're planning to avenge Haylen?" Jo demanded, but Rhys gave her a strange look.

"Kill... what? No! Lahey, I'm not a fucking monster. An asshole, sure, but I don't stoop to killing kids, even if they're the offspring of my enemy."

Jo nodded, acknowledging him, but couldn't think of a response. Rhys had changed. He wasn't the arrogant and cruel man she remembered. Bitter and angry, rightfully so, but not cruel. Perhaps she could help him too.

"It's not Maxson's baby. I was already pregnant," she admitted. 

"I don't understand. Who's the father then?" He asked. Jo bit her lip and held back tears. Would she ever see Danse again to tell him? 

"Danse."

"Ok, if you don't want to tell me, fine, but don't bullshit me. Everyone knows synths can't procreate."

"So did I, but it happened. Danse was special, a prototype. A supersoldier capable of procreation, in order to build their army. I'm carrying the very first baby conceived with a human egg and artificial sperm. And no one else knows, apart from you and I."

"So... Maxson isn't the father? This is even better! Don't you get it? We need to set a trap, convince him it's his baby. He'll come for you himself. Then we'll take him out for good!"

Rhys looked like a madman in the orange glow from the fire, his eyes lighting up with glee at the thought of making Maxson suffer in torment. 

"No, Rhys. We need to find Danse! He deserves to know what's going on. Everything."

"We will, but we need to keep moving. I have a plan, and tomorrow we start. I'm going to make that bastard pay for everyone he's hurt, and you're going to help me."


	41. Chapter 41

"You're certain it was him?"

"Yes, Elder Maxson, sir. He went by the name Ryan, but I know it was him."

"Was he alone? Was there a female with him?" Maxson nearly baked the questions at the pretty blind girl, but he wasn't thinking about her perfect breasts, or the exact gap between her thighs. No, those were less important matters.

"No, Sir. He was with a man. I didn't recognize him. The guy was pretty average looking: thin, average height, bald, dark glasses. Nothing special."

"And you're sure that's all you want? Miss...?

"Adams. Anabel Adams, sir. But yes, I would prefer to live a life with purpose here with the Brotherhood."

"You realize you will be treated as any other recruit?"

"Yes, of course, Sir."

"Then why would you eagerly turn him over, if he was your friend?" Maxson circled her like a stalking predator, but she didn't cower under his examination. He realized she wanted him to look at her, and though he wished he were a better man, he gave in to lust and eyed her greedily.

"He was my friend, but he hurt me. I want to repay the favor." She confided, her lips curled back into a snarl. Maxson finished his slow lap around her and stopped in front of her, just inches away, though he towered over her in height. He grabbed her by the chin and inspected her face. She seemed to be the polar opposite of Jo: platinum blonde hair, a heart shaped face, milky white skin. He frowned, thinking of Jo, and released Anabel quickly.

"If it is revenge you seek against this abomination, we're the best chance you have at finding it. Go see Knight-Captain Cade for your medical and report back to me for your briefing, recruit."

 

\---------------------

An hour later, Maxson found himself growing increasingly agitated with the lack of information the other reports were showing, and he growled under his breath. He stood up to take his usual place at the window.

He didn't hear the door creak open, nor the barrel feet puttering across the cold steel floors. He didn't notice the presence in the room, or hear the heavy breathing, as he was too tired up in thoughts of Jo. But soon, he was forced to notice when a warm hand snaked itself around his side and thrust itself into his jumpsuit before wrapping around his thick cock and stroking softly. He imagined Jo touching him and almost immediately felt his flight suit tighten and strain around his eager cock. 

He spun around and faced her; Anabel's soft, wavy, white-gold hair catching the lamp light. She smirked up at him and dropped to her knees, releasing his thick erection from its confines and wrapping her tight mouth around him. She took him all the way back to the back of her throat, and pushed him farther still, down into the black hole that Maxson had never ventured before. He didn't wait for her to adjust, but instead held her head in place while he fucked it, thrusting in and out while she gagged and tried to catch her breath. Occasionally he'd pull out long enough to enjoy the sight of the saliva spilling in strings from her mouth, and she'd take the opportunity to tongue at the slit on the head of his cock while she caught her breath. 

Finally he could take no more, and he quickened his pace; her face went nearly blue from lack of oxygen. He grunted as the sweat beaded on his brow in his concentration. He imagined Jo was at the top of his dick instead and soon he felt himself start to knot. Anabel tried to pull away, but Maxson held her head in place as he thrust as far down her throat as he could. He held her there as he blew his load deep inside her mouth and waited for the aftershocks to pass. He could feel her start to pass out, so he pulled away and watched the cum that was left trailing along before wiping it on her lips. 

"Pretty sure I know why you want Danse to pay. I'll give you your revenge, but you're going to give me what I want in return."

Anabel only smirked and nodded. "A fair trade, sir."

 

\-----------------------------

 

"I don't think I ever asked you: how does a soldier like you know a vault dweller like Jo? She told me you brought her into the fold, but never said how," Deacon asked, absently staring into the flames while Maxwell was out gathering wood. The trio had been on the road for too long; Danse was missing the sound of her voice, and realized the harder he thought about it, the more it slipped from his memory. 

"Simple. She was a civilian, she saw that my team was trying to defend against hoards of ghouls and came charging in. She couldn't even really shoot, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for with valor. I had never seen anyone so selflessly charge into battle before, and I never imagined a civilian to be so fierce. I knew the Brotherhood would be lucky to have her on our side."

"And you?"

"I don't follow, " Danse said honestly. 

"When you first talked to her, what did you think of her?" Deacon asked, leaning back on to his elbows. Danse chuckled. 

"Heh... I thought she was stubborn, and reckless." He paused, a faint smile lighting up his somber features. "And the most beautiful woman I'd ever met."

"When did you figure out you were in love with her?"

"I umm...," Danse blushed. "I've known for a long time. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I guess. It's been a long time since I even thought to get serious with someone. It's been pretty good with Piper...I think that I...," Deacon confessed. 

"Maybe you should tell her so yourself when you see her." Danse said matter-of-factly.

" _Yeah_...I mean, I dunno, maybe," Deacon said, lost in thought. He shook his head to clear it and looked at Danse. There was a familiar glaze to his eyes that Danse had seen in himself before: loneliness. Vulnerability. Ten years without anyone to call friend. Anyone to love. Some part of Danse knew that, in another time, they could have been brothers. 

Danse clapped him on the shoulder just as Maxwell climbed over the ridge, hours face looking like he had just seen a ghost. Before Danse could call out to him, a loud crack sounded in the night, followed by another. It took Danse a moment to realize. Two bodies lay still in the dry grass, and a third entered the flickering light with the barrel of a pistol trained on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I hate autocorrect?


	42. Chapter 42

"Kells," Maxson sighed, exasperated. "Just out with it already." Kells nodded stiffly and wiped his palm on the leg of his pants.

"I didn't want to bring it to your attention, sir, until I knew what we were looking at. It appears the vertibird transporting Paladin Brandis, Knight Rhys and Lancer Maxwell has crashed. We have confirmed reports that the crash occurred just outside of East City Downs. Paladin Brandis appears to have ejected himself in an effort to survive; he was found by Bravo Team Charlie when they were on their way to search for survivors."

Maxson gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. "I see. What of Rhys and Maxwell?"

"Bravo Team Charlie has fully investigated the crash site, sir, but they have not uncovered either of them. They are expanding the search to locate remains in case they also abandoned the crashing vertibird."

Maxson chuckled to himself, though it lacked in humor. Kells eyes him questioningly.

"Don't bother, they're long gone."

"Sir, with all due respect: Brandis is dead. A good soldier is dead. Rhys and Maxwell might be too. We need to sweep the area; there are raider groups in close proximity that are potentially holding them for ransom."

"Fine. Have Bravo Team Charlie do a quick sweep, but have them return by nightfall. If we do not receive a ransom notice or find a body by then, I want you to assemble a new team and meet me on the forecastle no later than 1100 hours. Have them fully prepared for extraction and elimination. Dismissed."

Maxson sighed heavily, and turned to pour himself two fingers of scotch to calm his shaking hands. He didn't bother to check that Kells had left. He looked out of the window to the world below, as if to search for Jo amongst the tiny dots that were people down there. Ants... just like ants, all going about their business and completely oblivious to the surrounding world.

He knew Jo was down there somewhere, and couldn't stop himself from imagining all the terrible things that could have happened. Danse could have kidnapped her. She could have been killed by supermutants. She could have been taken by murderous raiders. She might have been attacked by bloodbugs or a mongrel. And here he was, far above it all, unable to protect her. What good could he be as a leader when he couldn't even protect the woman he loved? How could his men evert respect him again? His father would have been ashamed.

He was overwhelmed by helplessness, and put his head in his hands.

 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

"I never asked how far along you are." It wasn't a question; Rhys was starting a fact. Regardless, Jo responded to break the silence. 

"Five months."  She didn't offer more, and he scoffed.

"You were messing around with Top five months ago? Why isn't it showing yet?" Rhys challenged, and Maxwell smacked his arm in protest. "What? They're valid questions!"

"It's alright," she smiled and nibbled on her mutfruit. "My first child was small too. And Danse and I... well, we've been involved for a while. We were afraid to be for a long time, I think."

"Why?" Asked Maxwell, totally in the dark.

"Maxson owns her, always has."

"He certainly thinks he does," Jo sighed.

"You sold yourself to him for power the first time you slept with him. Everyone knows it. He was a good man before you came along, and I don't know what you did to him, but it drove him to the brink."

"Wow Rhys. Could you find a cheaper shot?" Maxwell asked.

"It wasn't like that. Arthur and I couldn't have worked. We both wanted different things."

"Yeah, he wanted a woman who'd never love him, and you wanted a power you'd never have." Rhys sneered in contempt. "Am I wrong?"

Jo clenched her fists in her lap, but her face betrayed no emotion.

"When I met Arthur Maxson, I thought he was a pompous and arrogant asshole! It took one conversation -- one-- for me to see him differently. We had an instant attraction. It was like fireworks, but he told me it would never be anything serious, because of all the expectations he had to live up to. I was hurt when he broke things off. It wasn't my heart that was hurt though, it was my pride. I wasn't good enough. 

"Then I went to the Glowing Sea with Danse. I realized why I was better off without Arthur: he can't hold a flame to Danse. Once Maxson realized he lost me, it became more about ownership for him. He'd rather kill his own loyal soldiers than see me with someone else. He'd rather me be miserable than happy with someone else. That's not love, Rhys. That's ego. Haylen knew the difference. I thought you did too."

"No, you don't get to fucking mention her name!" Rhys yelled. "She was everything to me! If it weren't for you, she'd still be alive! Everything would be fine if you never came along!"

"Fuck man, it's not her fault Maxson is a psychopath. Relax." Maxwell chided.

"No, Maxwell, he's right." Jo stood up to head to her tent for the night. "I know Danse would be better off without me dragging him down. I made contact with the Institute. I handed over the holotape that nearly cost him his life. I dared to love him when I should have stayed away. Haylen is my fault too. If I had gone back to Maxson, she wouldn't have risked her life for me. I have to live with that! I killed my friend just as surely as if I had held the gun myself. And more, my baby is at risk, and you both gave up the Brotherhood for me. I know I'm a fuck up; I know this world wasn't meant for me and I charged in and expected to change it... but this baby, it deserves the life we all dream of. Not because it's mine, but because it's _his_." 

Rhys glared at her as she disappeared into her tent and blew out her candle. He shook his head, and knew he'd hate himself for using her as bait, but he'd hate himself even more if he didn't see to it that Haylen got justice. It was a cruel world, but maybe if he brought Maxson to justice, Danse's baby would see that fantasy life after all.


	43. Chapter 43

Rhys woke the next morning, groggy and sore. He regretted what he said to Jo the night before; the alcohol had loosened his tongue, though if he was being honest with himself, he meant every word. In hindsight though, he didn't need to barrage her with his bitterness. That wasn't what Haylen would have wanted. He resolved to apologize to Jo by surprising her with a fancy breakfast of canned peaches, which he had been saving. It was his favorite: a fruit that no longer grew in the wastes since the war, much like common decency. He figured it would be a good peace offering. He emerged from his tent to find Jo was nowhere to be found.

She had always been a morning person, but when Maxwell stumbled out of his tent near noon and she still hadn't returned, Rhys knew she hadn't just gone hunting-- his barbed words had driven her away. He hung his head in defeat. Not only could he never take back what he said, but now he couldn't trap Maxson. He needed Jo to call him here, needed her to plead with him to pay her ransom to a random pack of gunners, but now she wasn't here to radio him, leaving Rhys without a plan B. He needed to get Maxson to come searching, whatever it took.

Maybe there was a chance. Maybe he could radio in, and use Maxwell instead. He'd come for one of his own, wouldn't he? No, he was too focused on Lahey. Rhys would have to track her down, and this time, tie her up for real.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Jo heard the snap of a twig behind her as she trudged through the woods, heading towards Sanctuary. She pulled her gun and waited for the attack of a radstag or mongrel, but none came. Slowly, she holstered her weapon and continued on her trek.

She missed Danse. She missed the way his arms always settled into the small of her back in just the right place to comfort her. She missed the way his lips would softly brush her cheek when he thought she was sleeping, or the way he'd absently play with her hair when they cuddled together in front of a fire. She missed the sound of his voice, deep and strong. His laugh, heard so seldom lately. His eyes, even when they were tired, showed so much compassion.

Her mind swirled with so many thoughts of him that she felt nauseous. She didn't hear the heavy footsteps until they were upon her, and a large hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to struggle and scream, but she was pulled against a firm body and held tight. 

"Shh," said a familiar voice as it whispered into her ear. "It's me babe, it's me."

Jo instantly relaxed and threw her arms around him, breathing in the scent of him as she had no words fit to express her relief.

"You're being followed," he whispered. "We need to double back and head them off, make sure it's not Brotherhood. Deacon is already taking position on the north cliff there and distracting whoever it is. You head up the embankment, following the same direction you were going. I'll approach from the west. Don't turn around until you hear my signal; we don't want to give away our advantage." Jo nodded to him, and he kissed her fiercely and then he departed as though he were as evanescent as a wisp of smoke.

Five minutes elapsed, then ten, and finally she could hear Danse call out to her. She jogged over to him quickly, and saw that he had foiled Rhys, who now lay gagged and hog-tied on the ground. Rhys didn't even glance at her, but she saw he was bleeding from his brow. She bent down to check his cut, wiping the blood away from his face while he glared at her. 

"I think the restraints are a bit excessive," she said softly. "He's no real threat."

"He's Brotherhood and had a scope trained on you. If he isn't restrained, there's nothing stopping him from killing me, capturing you and bringing you back to the Prydwen."

"Don't forget molesting my beautiful figure," Deacon quipped out of nowhere. "All the rules about fraternizing up there, I wouldn't put it past him."

"That's enough, Deacon," Jo chided, feeling sympathy for Rhys. He had just lost Haylen and was bound to be thinking irrationally. "Fine. We'll make camp and secure him, then I'll fill you guys in on everything you've missed."   

 

Jo and Danse let Deacon to assemble the camp while they collected firewood. It hadn't rained for a while, so they had their arms full of dried logs in mere minutes-- which didn't exactly give Jo the time to work up the courage she needed, but she had to make do with what little she had. She stopped him just outside of earshot of the camp and tossed her logs to the ground. 

"Wait, Danse, I... we need to talk," she said, and watched his jovial expression melt away; in its place was a deep frown and nervous eyes. 

"Usually those words would be followed by reasons for leaving the relationship... or had something changed in the last two hundred years?" He meant the words to be humorous, but they came out as anything but.  

"Well, no...I mean...usually they are. But this isn't that, this is more complicated..." Danse raised an eyebrow and relaxed somewhat. She took a deep breath and blinked slowly, trying to form the words she needed to say. "You know you're special to me. But you've spent the last how many months trying to find something that sets you apart from other synths...a uniqueness. Well you _are_ unique, Richard. You were a prototype; not just to be the perfect soldier, but to be the perfect synth. To embody all of humanity's greatest strengths and none of our weaknesses, and then pass these traits on..." He scoffed at her words.   

"Jo, there is no perfecting synths. We can't embody the greatest parts of humanity when humanity doesn't even know what those are. And if you look at those that created us..."

 "And yet, somehow, you _do_ have all the best qualities."

"No, I don't. I'm playing at being a person, while the real Paladin Danse died by my side in a derelict shack in the middle of nowhere. Human beings get sick, they have real memories, they have legacies to pass down to their children. You're the one who has the best of humanity. I dont get why you waste your time with someone like me. You've already lost a son to the Institute, and somehow you _want_ to stay with me, even though I can never give you another, or give you any of the other opportunities that a real man can."

"Richard, please. Just let me say this... okay? When they created you, they didn't just create a synth who could shoot, or one who could imitate human emotion and behavior. They created you with the purpose of helping the earth repopulate healthy human beings." She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his forearm. "They created you with the ability to procreate."

Danse looked unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Everyone knew synths couldn't reproduce-- their brains lost the ability to produce high enough levels of hormones to reproduce once the synth component was added. But Jo wouldn't lie to him, she had no reason to. How was it possible? How could they have altered the synth component so drastically in order to change things? What did this mean for other synths? Could there be others who were experiments also, others who were abducted after he fled the Institute? 

"This doesn't seem right...where did you come across this information?" He asked, his head shaking slowly as his mind processed what his ears denied.

Jo smiled and reached for his hand. She placed it on her belly, which had barely begun to show. Nevertheless, Danse could feel the swell under his fingers. 

"Right here."

Danse lifted his eyes to her soft face, and something washed over his features. Jo couldn't tell what-- was it hope? Vulnerability? Fear? Whatever it was it was gone in a moment, and his face was a mask of confusion. 

"Jo, I don't understand what you're saying." He shook his head again in denial and pulled his hand away to rest at his side. The muscles in his neck tensed, as if he were afraid to hear her explanation. Jo stepped towards him and placed her hands on his hard biceps.

"Well, what I'm saying," she said softly, resisting the urge to smile. "Is that I'm pregnant."

Danse leaned against the tree just behind him, his knees nearly giving out at the news. He turned away from her and held on to the dead tree for support, resting his forearm against the rough bark while he collected his thoughts. His breaths came faster and shallower as the time ticked by, and still Danse didn't speak. 

"Danse, please say someth--"

Danse vomited all over the base of the tree. He continued to heave and Jo looked away in disappointment. This was not the reaction she had hoped for, and certainly not the one she expected. She imagined denial, followed by joy, maybe silence, but not this. Danse finished choking and spewing, and wiped his mouth. He stood up straight and turned to her, his shoulders tense and rigid as the old husk of a tree he leaned on moments before.

"Jo... forgive me. I just need a few minutes. We'll talk in a little bit, alright?"

Jo nodded sadly and left Danse to take in what she had told him. As soon as she was out of sight, Danse fell to his knees and wept.


	44. Chapter 44

It was near dawn when Danse crested the hill and made his way back into camp. Maxwell had resumed guard over Rhys and had ordered Jo to rest, though Danse was sure she would toss and turn anyway. He glanced over, noting Rhys was still tightly bound, and he was glad Jo hadn't released him during the night. The smell of sizzling bloodbug steaks wafted through the air, and he realized he hasn't eaten since the morning before.

"Steak's almost done, Top. I have a deathclaw egg for Lahey for when she wakes up."

"Thank you, Lancer. I appreciate that." He said absently, and picked a ripe looking mutfruit off a nearby wild bush while Maxwell finished cooking,

Rhys squirmed in his bindings, and Danse sighed. He couldn't leave the man tied up indefinitely. For one, it wasn't humane. Second, he would become a liability. He had a feeling he'd regret it later when he was hungry, but he pulled out his army knife and sawed his steak in half, and then sawed through the binds securing Rhys' wrists. He offered him the slab of meat, to which the man greedily accepted.

"I should shoot you." Danse said finally. Maxwell stopped preparing his own steak and looked up with worry.

"Probably. But you won't." Rhys replied. No animosity nor humor in his voice.

"No?"

"No. I know you have too much honor to shoot an unarmed man."

"You were going to gun her down in cold blood!" Danse growled, nearly lunging for Rhys, who remained unmoved by his outburst.

"I wasn't going to shoot her. I was making sure she wasn't trying to sneak off. That's why I has my scope on her. I couldn't see her; she was too far away."

"And since when are you her jailer? You shouldn't be monitoring her, so why were you?"

Rhys paused and mulled over his thoughts, undoubtedly deciding if he wanted to tell the ugly truth or a pretty lie.

"I need her," he said simply. "I'm going to bring Maxson to justice, and she's leverage."

"You mean bait," Danse sneered.

"I guess. Look, he doesn't get to kill Haylen and get away with it. She was everything to me, and now she's gone. He's going to pay, and Jo is going to be the hostage, so to speak. Trust me, she'll be fine." Rhys insisted. Danse grit his teeth in stubbornness, but finally resigned in a sigh. 

"Look, Rhys, I understand you're hurting over Haylen's loss, but you can't know that Maxson won't just bring all the manpower at his disposal. You can't guarantee Jo's safety, and I can't allow you to put her at risk. We'll figure out another way to make him pay, but this isn't it." Rhys' face fell in a mixture of guilt, shame, and Dr disappointment. 

"Sorry, Top. I just can't think straight knowing Haylen is in the ground and he's prancing around in his steel palace." His eyes settled on Danse's and his brow furrowed into a stern glare. "Swear to me: Maxson will pay for every life he's ruined. I want him to die painfully."

"Arthur Maxson will know a traitor's death, that much I promise you. We just have to find a way to accomplish that without risking innocent lives." Danse laid a warm hand on Rhys' rigid shoulder and the soldier nodded his assent.

"Alright, Top. Haylen would want it that way too."

Danse put away the rope he held, and gestured to Rhys to finish eating. "Good. So long as we're both working towards the same goal, we're allies. Get ready to move, we're leaving as soon as Jo has something to eat."

 

 

Danse would come to regret his decision to trust his old friend. 


	45. Chapter 45

Maxson paced the foredeck, the crumpled note in his palm, the messy scrawl carrying the message he had been waiting for. Anabel sat behind his desk, her legs crossed and one foot bobbing up and down in irritation.

"Who is it that's so important Arthur?" She demanded. Maxson abruptly stopped his pacing and snapped his head to her, the knuckles at his side turning white as he clenched them.

"You will address me as Elder Maxson," he hissed. She glared at him and ran her finds through her tousled hair, and straightened her blouse. "Who and what is important to me is none of your concern. Don't forget yourself, Initiate."

"It's funny, you don't act much like an Elder when your cock's in my mouth."

Maxson said nothing; she was obviously trying to goad him. He tapped the edge of the desk in annoyance while she put on her heels, purposely not watching her as she seductively crossed and uncrossed her legs.

"I don't understand you, Elder," she said mockingly. "I'm here, and I love you. Why are you obsessing over this mystery woman? Aren't you happy with me? What does she have that I don't? Or is it another cock you're craving? Is that why is such a secret?"

Anabel's voice grew steadily in volume, and Maxson's face began to turn the same scarlet as her stilettos. He couldn't believe the utter belligerence from this woman-- this wastelander! And to think he'd wasted his seed on her, even if it wasn't fruitful. 

"She is not a secret. I just don't feel the need to discuss my personal life with my personal _whore_. Sit the fuck down! The only reason you're here is because I like the way you look with my dick between your tits. You're trash. I gave you an opportunity to get revenge on Danse, which is more than I owed you for the guns, ammo, clothing, and security you've received. You haven't so much as been on a simple recon assignment; you've given us nothing in return. So if I want to fuck you in the ass, you'll hike up your skirt and bend over, or I'll fuck you with the barrel of my loaded pistol."

Anabel burst into tears and fled from his sight. Maxson glanced at the note in his palm, now saturated with the sweat of his rage: 

 

 

_Sir,_

_She's here. The synth is with us. We're heading north, most likely to Sanctuary, though they haven't                            said. They are heavily armed, and there is another traitor scumbag that needs to be put down. At your discretion, caution should be exercised: she carries your child and heir._

_Ad victorium,_

_JMR_

 

 

His heir. His head swam once again at the thought. 

To see a beautiful soon or daughter with Jo's smile and his mother's eyes. To see his own strong jaw mirrored in the tiny face off his offspring. To hold the small, human manifestation of his legacy! He wanted to kiss Jo and remind her off his love, and that they could face anything as long as they had each other. They would build a life together, and he would put her on the pedestal in his heart where she wound be free from the suffering of the wasteland. She would raise his son-- or daughter -- in the sage and peaceful embrace of the Prydwen, far from supermutants, ghouls and raiders. They would be a real family, and he would raise his child differently from how he was raised, and Jo would praise him for hours compassion and instincts. 

But Jo continued to elude him as she ran with their sworn enemy. How could she do this to him? How could she keep his child away from him? He knew he had been harsh, but that was so long ago. He would find her and make her see that he was the one for her, and she would forget all about the abomination she claimed to love. He would put a bullet between is eyes and bring her home, and she would see.

His fate would unfold exactly as he intended, and damn anyone that got in his way.

 


	46. Chapter 46

"Hey," Danse called softly. "Can we talk?"

Jo nodded and brushed her hands off on her fatigues, smudging black patches of soot along the camouflaged canvas. He motioned for her to follow him out of camp, and she walked quietly alongside him. The sound of the flickering fire died as they made their way away from the campsite, into the thickest part of the woods. Jo didn't say anything as they walked, waiting patiently for Danse to collect his thoughts.

"About before... I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to sound... disappointed, though I realize it may have come off that way. It's just that...well, when I thought I was a human soldier, I had no intentions of settling down and having a family. It wasnt in my plans. But when I found out I was a synth, I felt like I had been cheated. I realized that some part of me did want those things... a family, a home, a dog and a small farm on the coast somewhere. I never saw it as being possible. Ittook me a while, but I accepted that those things would never happen for me. I decided that I wanted to just accept my life and live it to the fullest. So I started making plans by thinking of what was possible, instead of what wasn't.

"Now, you're telling me I'm a father. I have never felt so thrilled and so terrified all at the same time. I'm so thankful that it is you I get to experience this with, that we get to grow together and have a baby that we can raise up. But I'm so afraid. There hasn't been any naturally born children from synths. What if something is wrong with it? What if he turns out to be a serial killer? What if I'm a terrible father? How do we explain to this child that he's not natural...that his father is a synth? How can I go on if my own child hates me for being what I am?"

Danse's eyes glazed with tears, and he looked up to find Jo's were the same. He realized the two had stopped walking near a bubbling brook, and he sat down on a large boulder nearby. Jo sat on his knees and wrapped her arms around him.

"We don't know what the future will bring, Danse. Any child has the capacity for evil, and they all have the capacity for good. We can do our best, but we aren't the only factors. I know you'll be a wonderful father: you're kind, caring, protective, smart, and you'll do anything to keep us safe. Beyond that, we'll learn as we go. I'm not the best mother, and I'm human! My son was taken from me, and he turned out to be the biggest bastard of them all. So, just because you're a synth doesn't mean that you'll be a bad father. You get what you put in, and I know you'll give this your all, just like you always do."

Danse swallowed hard, finding he had no words to argue her points. She was right. He couldn't know the future, he could only do his best and hope for the brightest outcome. He might not be the greatest father, since he still struggled with his own self-doubt, but he would ensure he kept this child safe and happy, just as he would Jo. 

"I love you," he said shaking. Jo held him tightly to her, smiling as he, for the first time, placed his hand on her belly out of his own volition. He marveled at how firm it felt under his fingertips, and saw Jo smiling gently at him.

"I love you more." She beamed at him, at he understood the term 'pregnancy glow'. Jo looked like an angel in his arms, as if her very eyes could light the darkest night sky.

"I sincerely doubt that," he whispered as he kissed her hair. He held her like that for a long time, until finally his breath began to puff around him in clouds. He squeezed her fingers gently and she nodded. 

The two walked back to camp with lighter spirits than they had felt in days.

 

 

\--------------------------

 

Danse watched Jo as she settled by the fire, a peace written on he beautiful face that he hasn't seen before. She looked... happy. He smiled and reached for her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and leaving her into him. She snuggled into his side, and he was content to have her there, tucked under his arm, and he felt her peace wash over him. 

A child. He had tried to picture it before, often wondering what his future would hold. He had never met the right woman before now, and he was glad for that. He might have left the Brotherhood. Another woman might have left him and took his child away when discovering he was a synth, but not Jo. She was warm and accepting, and loved him for who he was. She had even met the real Richard Danse, and she chose to be with him-- a synth -- over a human who could give her a real life. But now he was that man: the man who could give her a real life. A family, a home. The things most people wanted but were too afraid to pursue these days. And then, he knew.

"Are you awake?" He asked after a long, comfortable silence. He gently brushed her hair from her face and caressed her cheek, and she stirred. Her bright eyes looked up at him, framed by her dark lashes, and he wanted to take her right there by the fireside, but he restrained himself. 

"Yeah, I was drifting off a bit, but I'm awake."

"I'm sorry I woke you, but I need to ask you something," he told her, his eyes burning into hers. 

"Danse, what is it? What's wrong?" She sat up straight and searched his face for any sign of distress. 

"No... I um... we've been through a lot together. Are you... are you happy with me?" His voice was gentle but it lacked his usual sadness and instead showed a different kind of self doubt. Jo frowned and held he gave between her hands.

"I've never been happier, you're everything to me. Have you realized that?" He realized she was studying him and chuckled low in his throat. 

"Yes...well... I mean, I assume you're happy based on your behaviour... I just...I mean..."

"I'm not going anywhere, Richard. I mean that." He nodded at her words. 

"I know. You never have. You're the only stable thing in my life, Jo. You're the reason I get up every morning, and the only reason I'm able to stomach what I am. And now, I have two reasons," he said as he placed a trembling hand on her belly. "Marry me, Josephine."

Jo pulled away from him slowly, her posture stiff and rigid. She seemed as though she wanted to flee, to run from his offer, but instead she stood up and paved a few feet back and forth.

"Are you asking me now, because I'm pregnant? I don't need you to play my white knight you know."

Danse sprang to his feet beside her and took her hands in his.

"No! This isn't a matter of honor or obligation. I love you. I think of my future, and I've seen you in it for longer than I'd like to admit. And now, I also see a child in it. We can be a family, a real family, and though I never got to have one myself, I know I want one now. But only if you're with me, because nothing is worse than the thought of living without you."

Jo's eyes filled with joyful tears and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, until a slow clap started from behind the tents. Jo smiled softly and turned to the sound, what she assumed was a celebrating comrade, and she squinted to make our the shape moving towards them. The dark boots and coat slowly came into view, and she gasped.

"Very touching, but I'm afraid she's spoken for my friend. Since you can't bear the thought of being without her, I can certainly make arrangements for you."

Maxson stood in the flickering firelight, hot rage contouring his features and causing him to look more like a possessed corpse. Danse protectively stepped in front of Jo and the two men stared each other down. 

"No!" Jo cried, sidestepping her lover and jumping between them. "Please, it doesn't have to be this way!"  

"Josephine, I'm afraid it's much too late for anything else. I have this abomination the choice to flee. I have him the choice to abandon this fool notion that a human and synth should be together. But you're star-crossed lovers. He has no future with you, no matter what either of you thinks. Our deal is null. I told you need be safe if you stayed and obeyed me, but you choose to defy me. I trusted you, and you broke that trust. You must be punished for your treachery."

"You mean to kill us?" She demanded, slowly racing for her laser rifle, but Danse shook his head. 

"Jo, don't."

"No Jo, I don't mean to kill you. I mean to marry you, and make him watch. Maybe I'll make him watch while I consummate things too. I warned you that things would become unbearable for you both. Take them," he ordered to his surrounding men. Twenty pairs of boots emerged from the dense woods and seemed to swallow the area. They promptly apprehended the lovers and held them an arms length away from Maxson. 

"Maxson, don't do this! She's pregnant! Please!"  

Arthur's head snapped to Danse, and his reaction mirrored thone that Danse held earlier: shock and disbelief. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. I work for a video game studio and is crunch time for us now. I'll be a bit slow getting stuff going for a while.


	47. Chapter 47

"What did you say?" Demanded Maxson. He warned Danse with a glare. "If this is a trick, I swear you will pay with your life."

"Arthur, it's not a trick," Jo said softly, looking down from Danse's gaze in shame while the soldiers held them apart. "I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father." 

Danse cocked his head, his eyes searching her face for a reason, but found nothing. Maxson glanced between the two lovers in confusion, then acceptance, at the news. 

"You traitorous bitch," he growled. "You would try to keep my child from me and run off with this abomination? Do you know what I've suffered since you disappeared? And to learn you would hurt me like this... I should chain you up until the child is born and have you both summarily executed."

"No! Kill me if you want to, but let her and the child go!"

Maxson said nothing while Danse continued to plead. He watched Jo's form with a mixture of adoration and hatred, but when she turned her tear-streaked face to him, he felt a pang of guilt. 

"Arthur," Jo said, low enough that Danse could barely hear her. "Can we speak in private?"

Danse struggled again against the soldiers while Jo stood unmoving. Maxson considered denying her request, but thought better of it when he saw how much the idea bothered Danse. He grabbed her arm roughly and tugged her a few hundred yards away while Danse and the Brotherhood soldiers looked on. 

"If you're going to beg for your life, don't bother. I'm not going to kill you, Josephine. I couldn't, not while you carry my child. But make no mistake, I'm going to kill the synth once and for all. I'll wait until my child is born; we wouldn't want you running off again with my heir."

"Arthur, I'm sorry I ran. I was afraid. You know you've done terrible things to me! I was afraid you'd kill me!" She tried to explain, but Maxson turned away and didn't seem to be listening. "Please, spare him. I'll marry you. I won't fight you, I won't run away or resist. I'll forgive the past, every bit of it. I'll be yours; completely in body and soul." At this, he turned around and studied her face. 

"You'll uphold your marital vows for the rest of your life? Honor, obedience, fidelity...love? In exchange... for its life?"

"Yes! Yes, I will marry you, willingly, and honor every vow you'd have me make. I can't promise love to you now... but I will learn to love you, in time, as long as you treat me kindly. But I need proof he's alive, and remains alive, so long as I do."

"Why? Why is its life worth so much to you?" He asked with his voice filled with sadness. Jo placed her hand on his cheek. She wanted to vomit, but instead she rubbed a circle with her thumb over his scar. 

"It doesn't matter now. Will you accept my offer?"

Maxson gazed into her face, seeing her eyes filled with tears and her cheeks wet with moisture. She knew how to pull at his heartstrings, and knew what he valued above all: the Steel legacy, family, and honor. He reached for her hand and pulled it away from his face. 

"I'm a fool," he said angrily. "But I accept. From this day forward, you will be mine. The synth will remain my prisoner until I'm certain you won't kidnap my child."

"Thank you, Arthur. I won't. I want to be able to verify his wellbeing when I choose, and speak with him for twenty minutes a week to ensure he's treated well." 

"Absolutely not. I'd be willing to allow five minutes, once a month, but no more. You may verify he is alive through the window of his cell whenever you wish, but you may not enter. The synth will attend our nuptials, in chains, and will also view the consummation of our marriage with the Council members, so it understands this is final. You are mine, and I will lay claim to you in front of it so there is no room for denial. My child will be brought up away from that thing, and will never set eyes on it. If you don't agree to my terms, I will execute the abomination myself right now. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Jo nodded solemnly. "I understand, and I agree." She exhaled and felt her soul slipping away into the wasteland. She sold her soul for the man she loved, and though Maxson wasn't the devil, he may as well be.

"Good." Maxson nodded curtly to her. "We will be married at noon. I will give you your five minutes in order to say goodbye once we board the airship. Remember your promise this time, Josephine. I'd hate for its death to be on your conscience, or yours upon mine."


	48. Chapter 48

Jo waited while the guard unlocked Danse's cell, which took an excruciating amount of time. The heavy steel door wailed on its hinges as it opened, revealing her lover slumped in a corner with his face buried in his hands.

"Richard!" She cried as she ran towards him. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, the sound alerting her to the fact that this was her final five minutes with the man she loved before she had to marry that monster. He said nothing in reply, and couldn't lift his head to even look at her.

"I'm so sorry, I had no choice. Please, look at me." She placed her hands gently on his face and lifted his gaze to her. What she saw startled her: not love, not hate, not anger. Just... an emptiness. He was totally and utterly broken now. She had done this. She had broken the most wonderful man she'd ever known and left behind a husk as brittle as an abandoned wasps nest.

"Why?" That one word chilled her to her bones.

"I couldn't let him hurt you. I would die for you. Don't you understand that?"

"Well, I would rather die than live this life you've forced on me. I'm locked up like an animal. You're the only woman I ever loved, and you lied to me! You gave me hope in a world that has none. I bought the lie you sold: a synth actually having a family. I should have known it would come to this. A man like Maxson will always come out on top. Now he has you, he has his heir, and he has legacy. I have an eternity with nothing but memories of your empty promises."

"Please," she begged. "Listen to me. I didn't lie to you. I would never hurt you. This baby _is_ yours. And we're going to have a life as a family. You, me, and our son or daughter. But I can't do this without you, Danse. We're going to get through this, but you have to trust me. I need you to stay alive, for me, and I will find a way to get you out of here. Don't give up. Promise me you won't give up."

"Time's up!" Called the guard from outside the cell. He banged in the steel door with the butt of his gun to illustrate his point. 

Jo kissed Danse deeply and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Promise me," she whispered into his soft skin. Her eyes were filled with tears, and Danse mirrored her emotions with his own. 

"I promise. I love you Josephine. Be careful."

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

The next morning came quickly, but Jo didn't get any sleep. She knew what awaited her when the sun hit the high point in the sky. A few initiates flitted intuitive her room to prepare her for her wedding, dressing her in fine silks and pristine white furs. Jo asked where they came from and was told they belonged to the late Lady Maxson. She wasn't thrilled. After her hair was piled on her head, she was escorted to the flight deck of the Prydwen where nearly the entire crew had assembled.

Everything had been decorated with care. Nothing had been overlooked. Discolored white tulle had been wrapped around the steel railings and chairs. Maxson donned a fine white suit, and had even shaved off his signature beard for the occasion. Kells was officiating, and Cade stood as best man while a row of women Jo didn't recognize were to serve as her bridesmaids. One blonde girl, who would have even gorgeous if not for her scowl, nearly tossed a bouquet of hub flowers at her. The entire time, Maxson beamed as she took her place beside him. 

"We are privileged and honored to be assembled here today to witness such a monumental occasion. Our esteemed Elder has deemed a woman worthy of the Maxson name, and has sought her hand by all rights bestowed by our great litany. Every man and woman is honored to see oaths taken in traditional fashion, whereapon these two individuals will swear by their lives and by the steel we hold dear. 

"Arthur Maxson, do you, as Elder of the Brotherhood and leader of her people, agree to take this woman as your mate? Will you uphold the values the Brotherhood stands for first and foremost, and never forsake it, while you fulfill your duty to continue the Maxson bloodline? Will you place this woman above all other women in your life, as she is the mother of Steel?"

"Yes," Maxson responded. Nowhere in his vows was he asked about love or fidelity. As always, it was all about the Brotherhood. 

"Josephine Lahey, do you accept Elder Arthur Maxson to be your mate? Do you promise to honor and obey his every command, in order to lift him up so he is highest among men? Do you promise to make every attempt to conceive his children and do your marital duty? Do you vow to follow and to raise those children by the values upheld by the Brotherhood?"

Anabel scowled and muttered under her breath. Jo could not bring herself to look into Arthur's eyes.  

"Yes."

"In the eyes of all in attendance, and for the entire world, you ate officially wed. May the Steel grant you a multitude of strong children and long lives."

Arthur grabbed her then, kissing her mouth so hard it hurt.

"The consummation ceremony will begin at 21:00 hours. Until then, everyone aboard is welcome to partake in the festivities. Those who are to bear witness are reminded that the use of alcohol is forbidden until the marriage is finalized and everyone signs off. Enjoy the day."

Jo didn't see anyone shuffle past her. She didn't hear a subtle word of congratulations. She was focused on Maxson's hand: warm and soft against her lower back. She was reminded that before this day was through, his hands would explore every other part of her that he wanted them to. The thought made her sick. 

Arthur broke off to mingle, leaving Jo to her thoughts. She considered making a run for it and leaping off the flight deck, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving Danse in a cell. She felt a sharp pain as someone pinched her arm, and she lifted her eyes to see bright blue ones staring back at her. 

"First you steal the man I love, then you steal the man I fuck, is that it? Well, don't think it will last. I'll make sure the only bed he warms is mine. Your execution will be next and I'll be made his bride. _Don't fuck with me."_ Anabel hissed.

"Look kid," Jo sighed. She was tired already, and her head was starting to throb. "You don't know me, so I'll let that slide. You ever threaten me again, I'll nail that sharp tongue of yours to a shack wall and eat Sugar Bombs while you get fucked by supermutants. I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing, but if you force it on me, guaranteed I'll win."

The girl went pale and hurried away as Maxson approached. "I was hoping to keep you two apart. I'm sorry." 

"Not going to try to lie your way out of this?" Jo asked sarcastically.

"Why would I? I'm to hold you above all my other women, not limit myself to only you."

Jo felt the wave of nausea wash over her in an instant, and hurled over the side of the ship. Maxson reached over her and pulled her hair back.

"There, there. You're alright. Just so you know, I already knew about the baby. But I needed to be sure. Why would you think you could hide from me? And let a synth raise the Maxson heir? You're going to be punished for it, mark me, but it really makes me hard when I think about how heartbroken Danse must be that it's my baby, and he'll never have one. 


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry my lovelies! Life got in the way. I promise to wrap this up asap. I'm going to skip a whole story arc because it will just drag things out. Instead, I'm going to answer some questions, vindicate our heroes and destroy our villains.
> 
> Also, a reader mentioned that I was seemingly attributing Maxson's violent actions to bipolar. I want to be clear: Maxson is not bipolar. Psychopath? Yes. Obsessed? Very.  
> I had bipolar in the tags because I was going to do more with Rhys' character, but I've since updated tags.

Danse sat against the cold steel wall, the first trickle of daylight creeping across the cell floor. He lulled his head back, staring absently at the sunshine, as if appalled at its audacity to interrupt his vigil of sorrow. He held his fingers up, casting shadows across the floor, wondering how he ever could have complained about the sun being too hot or too bright, when now he'd give everything just to spend the day with Jo in the sun.

By now, Jo was getting ready for the wedding, no doubt having last minute alterations to her gown, or having her hair done up into elaborate hazelnut curls. He wondered if she'd be able to smile today, even if it wasn't a genuine smile, just to look the part. He imagined standing across from her, grasping her hands as he said his own vows, staring into her beautiful eyes as he confessed everything he felt from the moment he saw her. 

No. Today it wasn't him she was marrying, it was Arthur Maxson, the king and commander of the most powerful army in the Commonwealth. Or anywhere. Today wasn't for him; today was the day Maxson would claim her as his own, putting his unworthy hands over her perfect body, whispering sweet nothings or bitter insults into her hair. He wouldn't evert know which; Jo would never tell him.

No, it wasn't his day. He had many days with Jo: shooting laser fire into a charging horde of supermutants while Jo cackled ferociously, gazing into her face as he held her tightly in his lap (sometimes, they even had clothes on), watching her wash her hair in the stream, emptying a minigun on a horde of ferals as they exploded, the same as gourds did when he shot them. 

But now, days with Jo would be a sorrowful memory. At first, she would come down for her allotted visits. She might even try to sneak in a few extra. Ultimately though, life catches up to us all, and he knew her visits would dwindle. It would be hard enough to see her, having a constant reminder of things he could taste but never reach. Maxson could be hurting her, and Jo wouldn't say a word. Was Danse to go through life like this? Everyday wondering which bruises she hid? 

And what of their child? It disgusted him to think Jo would raise their child as an heir to the Maxson bloodline, but at least the child would be well fed and attended to. If the child grew to look like Danse, would Maxson kill it, or love it as his own? Would the child be a synth or a human? Could Maxson love a synth? He was certain that if Maxson discovered that Jo was carrying his baby, Maxson would put a bullet between his eyes.

Truth be told, Danse wanted to die. He didn't want to wake up in a world where he was caged, day after day, like a wild animal. Where the only human contact he would ever have would be the guard who would no doubt bring meagre rations as he banged on the steel bars for Danse to back away. Then, Jo would become a drug, and he, an addict: craving her touch, hideous withdrawal from the lack of her smile, hallucinations of her soft voice...calling... calling...

He knew he would hear her soft murmers-- sounds she normally reserved for sleeping. Like when they first shared a bed, she would chant his name through the night; sometimes with a soft sigh on her lips, sometimes terrified and wanting her hero. In the dead of night, hunkered down in the Glowing Sea within a deep cave where a monster stirred and a radstorm raged just outside, all he had been able to focus on was his name on her lips...calling. He was already starting to lose it, and he didn't even mind. It would be better than facing a future like the one Maxson had planned for him: isolated, alone, humiliated, undignified... He could end it all, he knew that. He could try any number of ways to end this misery,  but all would leave Jo heartbroken and vulnerable.  But the madness would shield him from misery, as far as the recovering soldiers said, and at least if he was going to live like this, he could give into the madness and save a piece of his soul. 

If synths even had souls.  

A key, jingling in the lock. Danse turned his face to the sound, but he couldn't make out more than a hand emerge as a silhouette and grasp the edge of the heavy steel door as it creaked slowly open.

"Danse?"

 

Calling.

 

 


	50. Chapter 50

Proctor Ingram fussed over Jo's curls, pinning them into an elaborate updo, nearly a beehive in its towering height. Scribe Neriah painted her face with a variety of colors; before the war, Jo would never have combined them, but they still mace her eyes pop and her lips gleam. Her nails were painted too, a rose colored pink that made her slender fingers appear to be missing fingernails if you looked from a distance.

True, the women chattering all around her may as well have been the same as having her fingernails torn out.  _You must be so excited, the envy of every woman! I would even settle for Quinlan, but you may be hiding good luck charms in your ass to have Maxson propose! You'd better hold on to him, he's such a looker. I can't even imagine; we've all heard the stories: Arthur Maxson has a monster cock! Smile, is your wedding day, you don't want to scare him off or one of us will steal him!_

"Indeed," came a voice from the doorway. The girls all giggled, but Jo's frown only deepened when she saw Anabel leaning against the door frame. "Although, truth be told, being wife to the most powerful man in the world has huge implications and responsibilities. For instance, being the figurehead, or maternal figure to an entire generation. I mean, you need to be the ideal woman at all times: obedient, beautiful, loyal... When your husband takes a mistress, you have to embrace it. He needs an heir, and will force you to have one whether you want to or not. And I can't imagine for the life of me being in a marriage with a man you despise while the man you love rots in prison because of you."

"That's enough!" Proctor Ingram shouted. The room went as silent as the world must have been after the bombs were dropped. Anabel shrugged.

"Sure. I only came by to relay a message anyway: Elder Maxson demands your presence on the Command Deck immediately after the ceremony. He will meet you there, and he advises you do not delay." Jo nodded at the younger woman, and Anabel flashed a dangerously sweet smile. "I think you'll enjoy tonight's events. We made sure to plan them with a touch of nostalgia for you."

Jo didn't know what that meant, but was sure she would not enjoy anything, ever again. 

__________________________________________

 

"We have gathered here today to witness a historical event, wherein our illustrious leader, Elder Arthur Maxson, has finally found a bride worthy of his affections, and his family name. Before you stands Sentinel Josephine Lahey, who had earned her title in her own right through acts of courage and valor. The council has reviewed this proposed union, and has declared it to be lawful under the courts within the Brotherhood of Steel. Therefore, we shall commenced with the marriage of these two, who were united under our banner, and now seek to be united as one. Before we begin, do any of you, my brothers and sisters, have such reason to believe that these two people should not be wed, under the tenets we hold dear, or any other morally binding reason?"

Maxson grasped Jo's hands firmly in his own, his freshly shaven face snapping to where Danse stood in chains. If not for the scowl he wore, Arthur might be handsome this day, but he wore his bitterness like a badge of honor. Jo could feel no affection to this man, and instead, turned her watery eyes to where Danse stood.

He stood not more than eight feet away, shackled by both the wrists and ankles, and instead of a suit or uniform, he wrote a simple faded and dirty trench coat. He wept in silence, shaking his head when Jo meet his eyes, add if pleading with her to end this farce and let the bastards kill him. As the minister began to speak once more, Jo felt a jerk on her hand, and she tore her eyes away from Danse to look at her betrothed once more. 

"-- and so, I shall read the adjusted vows as per our Elder. Initiates, please bring forth the rings at this time. These rings, symbols of eternity and everlasting devotion, both to each other and to the Brotherhood, are comprised of the highest quality, triple fired steel. They represent the unbreakable bond of marriage that is between Elder and bride, and solidify the oaths made here today. 

"Arthur Maxson, Elder to the Brotherhood of Steel, Eastern Chapter, will you attend and protect Josephine Lahey, your appointed Sentinel, also within the aforementioned Chapter, to place her first amount women? Do you swear to do your duty to have her conceive your heir, and to train and raise your heir by the tenets instilled in the Brotherhood by your predecessors?"

"Yes."

That was it? One word? A simple acknowledgement? Nothing about loving her until death? Or honoring her and his commitment to he and her alone? 

"Sentinel Josephine Lahey: do you swear to love, honor and obey your Elder, Arthur Maxson? To never shirk your marital duties, to bare him an heir, to stay committed to him each night and day? Do you swear to respect him above all else, to never question him or his authority, and to lay your life down for his? Do you swear to raise your heir by the tenets instilled in the Brotherhood by the former Elders?"

Ohhh... there it was. She had to vow certain behaviour, but he did not. That's what was different-- he had her vows altired to ensure compliance. If she agreed to this, she may as well die. But Danse would be safe. She could have this baby in safety, and when no one suspected it, she could break Danse out and give him their child. What other choice did she have? She'd already lost one man, and one child, she couldn't lose another. She felt the tears slide down her face before she could stop them. 

"Yes. Yes, I swear it." 

She saw Danse drop to his knees in agony, openly weeping while Rhys yanked him to his feet and tried to tear him away. Maxson smirked at the scene, but the minister watched in disdain. 

"Then by the powers gifted to me by the Brotherhood of Steel, I pronounce you Elder and wife. We joyously share in your happiness, and wish you prosperity for years to come. Ad victorium!"

A roar went up in the crowd, echoes of the popular rallying cry. Jo didn't hear it, however, her eyes were glued to Danse as he was led away, his eyes never leaving hers. She lost sight of him when Arthur's mouth crashed down on her own and he forced his tongue into her mouth. 

"Mine," he breathed. "You're finally mine. Keep your vows, all of them, and he keeps his life."

Jo turned back to find Danse in the crowd once more, but he was gone. She turned to ask she where he would be taken, but Maxson had also vanished. Jo stood alone, in a sea of well-wishers, the simple white gown flapping in the breeze against her calves as she wondered how she would ever survive this. 


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to fill in the blanks here and write a sexy threesome scene... but then I decided I just can't. Sex scenes are hard enough for me to write when there is just two people. So we fast forward.

"Danse?" Called a voice, the muscle behind its physique blocking the harsh light from Danse's eyes. Nevertheless, the lights were too bright after his eyes spent so long in the dark, with only a small slit to let in daylight before sundown. Danse squinted, trying to guess who would bother to speak to him.

Normally, if the slot on his cell door were open, the only words he would hear were 'Chow time-- step away Abomination' or 'Maxson should have killed you when he had the chance'. His name -- or the only name he had evert known as his-- was a novelty now. He was a nameless prisoner now; not a person, but a thing.

"Psst! You in here, Top?"

Danse felt himself growl low under his breath. The nerve of this fool! Getting him locked away and Jo forced into marital servitude, yet he had the nerve to call on him like they were friends? Although, Danse supposed it didn't matter now. His enemies would come calling whenever they pleased.

"What do you want, Rhys?" Danse asked. He didn't sound angry, despite his rage, but rather...small. As if a small boy was trapped in his body with a man's deep voice. Lost, defeated, and solemn.

"We gotta get you out of here, Big Guy. Shit's gonna to hit the fan." Rhys stepped into the cell and began to inspect Danse's ankle shackles with a pen knife.

"You've got to be kidding me. First you betray me, and Jo, and now you want to help me escape?" Danse demanded, not helping to twist his limbs so Rhys could get a good look at his binds.

"What... what the hell are you talking about? I would never betray you!"

"You went behind my back after I asked you not to use Jo as your pawn! Only you and Maxwell knew where we were, and you're the one that disappeared, you're the one that had a scope trained on Jo! Admit it! You sold is our for your revenge."

"Danse. I know I fucked up in the past, but you have my word: I never told anyone where we were, or where we would be. I want Maxson dead, not married and doing whatever the hell he's doing. I know Lahey and I have had our problems, but I don't wish ill on her, and I certainly don't want her with Maxson. It had to be Maxwell, or maybe a traveller, but I swear on Haylen's memory that I kept your secret."

Danse pondered his words for a few moments in silence while Rhys grew more nervous.

"Top, we don't have a lot of time--"

"No. I can't leave without Jo. If one of us gets out, it has to be her. Promise me, Rhys," Danse begged, the defeated and sorrowful tone once again apparent in his voice. "I'm sorry that I blamed you. I know you loved Haylen and you would never sully her memory. So, I don't deserve your loyalty, but please, if you ever imagined us as friends, get Jo out of here. Hide her from him and keep my child safe."

"Danse! Listen to me! The Railroad has infiltrated and placed bombs in the Prydwen! Jo is with Maxson, and I can't get to her. I had a hard enough time convincing your guard that I was relieving his post. We have less than forty minutes to abandon ship and clear the area before the bombs go off! Do you understand? I can't save her, but I can save you, if we leave now!" 

Danse shook his head as his stomach seemed to fall through the floor. He rose to his full height, resting his forehead against the steel wall of his gloomy cell. Shadows from Rhys' frame were cast on Danse's face as he started hyperventilating. He closed his eyes in an attempt to steady himself. 

"Save as many as you can."

"Top, that's not an option! We have one vertibird, we can hold maybe half a dozen people!"

"It's the only option," argued Danse.

He would be damned if he had to live an existence without Jo. It was bad enough now, but she was alive, and there was a small chance they could escape. If he escaped and she died, it would all be for nothing. He'd lose her, he'd lose their child, and he'd lose his soul. Rhys tried to protest again, but Danse stopped him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. 

"It has been my greatest honor to fight with you and Haylen," Danse told him gently. "Have the vertibird take as many as it can hold, and if you can find a pilot loyal to us, grab another one. Don't trust Maxwell. He sold us out once, and he'll do it again."

"What about you? I can't leave you behind, Richard."

Danse chuckled. It was the first time Rhys had addressed him by his first name. "Leave me with power armour. If there's a chance, I'll find it."

"I'll leave your cell unlocked, and leave the power armour in the empty cell directly across from yours in exactly five minutes. Shift change is in ten, so make it quick or they'll see you."

"Affirmative. Thank you, Knight. Ad victorium."

"Ad victorium, Paladin," was Rhys' reply, and it was obvious he purposely ignored that Danse had been stripped of his rank. Danse felt pride for him then; Haylen would too for the man he'd become. 

The five minutes came slowly, but sure enough, Rhys delivered on time and left a fully refurbished suit of power armour for him. Danse checked the dim hallways before he emerged from his cell, closing and locking it behind him. The power armour was complete with a helmet, so he would blend right in with the other knights. Rhys made sure to include a backup power cell, just in case, and a note.

 _For Haylen_.

The pneumatic controls brought strength to his sore and weakened limbs. The VATS helmet helped him focus his vision. And tucked right into its holster was Righteous Authority, which must have been confiscated from Jo at some point. Armed and suited up, Danse checked his weapon thoroughly, and exited the cell before the guard for the next shift change could spot him.

It was time to go get his life back. 


	52. Chapter 52

Anabel chattered on like a sparrow as she dressed, but neither Maxson nor Jo acknowledged her. Maxson stood where Jo had once admired him from afar, at the large glass window overlooking the Commonwealth. His muscled back didn't even move when he breathed, not that Jo noticed.

She still lay on his desk, curled up naked on her side while she wept. Her shoulders shook while she sobbed quietly, and her only acknowledgement was a slap on her ass from Anabel as she walked to where Maxson stood and embraced him. Maxson said something to her which Jo couldn't hear, and Anabel's response was just as inaudible, but a moment later she was sprawled on the cold steel floor. 

"Get out." Anabel stood up in defiance and stuck her chin out at him in silence. "Leave me with my wife."

 "Arthur, I think that--" she protested. 

"Get out!" He roared. "And make sure we are not disturbed!" Anabel recoiled and cast a dirty look at Jo before she ran out of the room. 

Arthur turned to Jo, and watched her torso shake as she sobbed. His frown deepened, but he approached her slowly, as he would a wounded radstag. He helped her sit up and draped his coat around her shoulders. 

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Jo, look at me," he begged. She did, and saw his eyes were filled with tears. She had no response to this, and felt no pity.  "I... I'm sorry. When I lost you, I lost myself. I became jealous, enraged, irrational. I hated Danse, not just because it's a synth, but because you believed it to be better than me. It killed me to think that. Then I met her, and she swore she would change things. That she could get him away from you and we could be together again. I sponsored her not because she showed valor or courage, but because I saw someone who wanted the same thing I did: revenge.

"I guess I'm telling you this because I realized that she used me. She wanted her revenge, but she wanted me, too. All that her confessions of love did was fuel my need for you, and she saw that. But she...I don't know. It was easy to pretend she was you for a while. But tonight was supposed to be about you and I feeling pleasure, not pain. I know you didn't tell her to stop because you were trying to keep your word. But please... don't think I would allow someone to hurt you. Not ever."

"But you did. She hurt me, and you did nothing to stop her. In fact, you got off on it!"

"Jo, I thought you were role playing. I didn't know you were actually hurt until I saw the blood."

"Well, if I didn't like it when you did horrible things to me, why would you assume it would be different for her?"

Maxson sighed and picked up her clothes, folding them neatly before laying them beside her on the desk. 

"Please Jo, get dressed. I'll have a snack brought up, and we can celebrate our new life together. I know it's not the life you want,  but maybe one day you'll learn to be happy with me. I promise you: she will never hurt you again. Never."

"If you know it's not the life I want, why did you force a choice like that on me? And how can you promise that? Lock me up in your quarters away from her for the rest of my life? Because I know you won't eject her from the Brotherhood!"

Maxson looked at her quizzically, tilting his head almost like an owl. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her hair as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. 

"Nothing in the world is free, Josephine. Everything has a cost. The cost of Danse's life is you stay with me while we raise our child. After that, if you choose to leave, that will be your choice, but I truly hope you stay. But as Elder, I will not allow treason against my wife. She will face execution, if that is your wish."

"No that isn't my wish, Arthur! You don't go around killing people every time someone doesn't like you, or me for that matter. She hurt me, but she doesn't deserve execution for that!" Jo hissed at him as she quickly dressed. He seemed to be considering her response.

"So what would you have me do?" Maxson asked. 

Suddenly the steel door flew open. Maxson whipped around to confront the intruder and was astonished to find Danse standing in the doorway with a laser rifle trained on him. 

"You can back away, Arthur." Snarled Danse while he motioned Jo to his side. She quickly obeyed, leaving a naked Arthur Maxson standing with his knees against the bed, his mouth hanging agape.

"What the fuck is going on? How did you escape?" Maxson demanded, but Danse only growled as he handcuffed Maxson the the steel bedframe. 

"Jo," Danse faltered, nervous suddenly. "I'm leaving this ship. Now. I need to know that you'll come with me. They'll never find us, I swear it."

"Jo, if you do this, there is no going back. You're my wife! The Brotherhood will track you down, you can guarantee it. Adultery is treason, and I would not be so lenient with either of you this time!" Maxson didn't undermine his authority by struggling in vain.

"Richard, you know I'll go anywhere with you, so long as I know you and our child is safe."

Maxson's face turned a frightening shade of purple as Danse kissed her, passion blinding his senses until he became oblivious to Maxson entirely. He whispered his plan to Jo, and her face fell, though she nodded.

"You lied to me! You bitch! You told me the child was mine! How is this even possible?" He roared, and Danse could see the bolts holding down the bed were loosening.

"Jo, we don't have time, we need to go now!"

Jo didn't heed Danse's words. She calmly approached her husband, planning both her palms on his face, tears welling in her eyes. 

"No, I didn't lie, Arthur. You assumed Danse couldn't have children. You assumed a lot of things, especially about synths. And about me." She leaned down closer to him, locking his gaze with her own. She put her lips close to his ear, so close that he could feel her breath and it sent chills through him. It reminded him of when they first became intimate. 

"You assumed you knew me," she whispered to him. "And you assumed that because I loved Danse, that I never held love for you. But I did, Arthur. I did love you, and it was beautiful. But you took my love for you and twisted it until I could only recognize it as fear. You only loved me only so long as you could keep me in this steel gilded cage. You ruined many lives Arthur, and the time has come to reap what you've sown. I will always have a space in my heart for the man you once were, and because of that, I have a parting gift: forgiveness. It's more than you deserve, but I give it freely."

Jo's tears fell on Maxson's bare shoulder and he looked up into her face as she pulled away from him. She placed a kiss on his cheek and wiped away his own tears while Danse stood by in shock. He didn't have time to dwell on it, as suddenly there were soldiers banging and shouting at the door.

"Shit! How are we going to get out of here now? Think Danse!" The large man ordered to himself. 

"Danse. There's only one way out of this room," Maxson said quietly add he motioned to the large curved window. 

"Richard, grab on to me and smash through the glass. I can't fit in power armour, so ill need you to hold me. Power armour will negate all injury from falling."

"No!" Danse protested. "It would negate  _my_ injury, not yours. Anything can happen. You could pass out, lose your grip, or the shock from impact could shatter your bones. And that's not even counting death! I couldn't stand it if I lost you or the baby! I'll carve a path through and get us out."

"No! I can't let you do that. There's no time to fight through, and there are too many soldiers. We either do this, or we die here, together."

Danse didn't have time to consider her words. The door burst open and a hail of gunfire enveloped the room. Without a second thought, Danse ran for Jo, his back shielding her from the laser fire, and scooped her up tightly against his chest. His legs continued to run, and a second before he would have hit the glass of the observation deck, Danse pivoted and thrust his back and shoulder through the glass.

Then they were falling. A series of explosions rocked the Prydwen, and as Jo and Danse tumbled to the tarmac below, she looked back up at the destruction. She swore she saw Arthur Maxson leaning over the broken observation window, just watching her fall to freedom. And strangely, she thought she saw him smile. 


	53. Chapter 53

Desdemona, Deacon, Glory, Drummer Boy, Tinker Tom and Carrington were all waiting close to the landing point, and within ten minutes they were there to assist. The abandoned and decrepit building was hardly the best place to make a medical or tactical assessment, but it was the best they could do.

Glory and Deacon cased the perimeter while Carrington fussed over Danse. Though the legs of his power armour were nearly crushed and he was bleeding from some unknown source, he insisted the sarcastic doctor see to Josephine and check on the baby first. Carrington rolled his eyes and huffed, pointing out the likelihood of death if he lost too much blood. Danse huffed back and shooed the doctor away. 

The fall, oddly enough, didn't injure Jo much at all. She had been tucked between Danse's arms and chest, her legs dangling at least a foot off the ground thanks to Danse's towering height. Though the shockwaves did reverberate through her enough to make her bite off a small piece of her tongue, but she was otherwise unharmed. Carrington confirmed the baby was alive and well, and assured Danse Jo was fine. Finally Danse relented and let him see to his wounds. 

"Sounds like you have one hell of a story to tell," Deacon said from behind her. "Jumping out of a burning ship. That kind of stuff only happens in the movies."

"So I've been told," she smirked. Deacon handed her a Nuka Cola and she happily accepted.

"So you really married king of the tin cans, huh?"

"Yep."

"And how'd that go for you?" Deacon asked, half chiding her for her foolishness. 

"'Bout as well as you'd expect."

The two were quiet for a few moments, watching the burning and chaos that was the downed Prydwen.  

"You know boss, I gotta say, I was worried. I think we all were. When Rhys told us what was happening, we knew we had to take act--"

"Wait... Rhys? What does Rhys have to do with anything?"

Deacon chuckled and kicked his boot at a spot in the dirt. 

"You still haven't really figured it out, have you?" He asked jokingly. "I guess that's a good thing though, we wouldn't want everyone to be able to pick us out in a crowd."    

Jo grabbed his arm tightly and whirled him towards her. 

"Are you telling me Rhys was an agent?" She demanded. He smirked at her again. 

"I honestly thought you would have made him a hell of a lot faster than you did. But yes. Rhys is an agent, he's been undercover since he was a teenager, I think. Started in the Capital Wasteland, but came down when the Brotherhood of Steel did. Good kid, but really moody.

"Truth be told, we had a couple of agents on the inside. It's always a good idea to know who's holding the cards.  Glory was supposed to go undercover if you could believe it."

"Let me guess: problem with authority?"

"Bingo. She'd the real deal, but doesn't have a subtle bone in her body."

"Fuck you, Deacon," Glory called as she re-entered the crumbling ruins. "You don't have to be subtle to hold a mingun. You just have to be badass. Which we can all agree that I've got that covered in spades."

"Sure thing, Twinkletoes." Deacon winked.

"I guess I owe Rhys my thanks. He can forget an apology though. I still think he's a dick," Jo quipped. 

"So... you just won the heart of the Tinman, what are you going to do now?" Deacon joked back in his best game show host impression.        

Jo paused, locking eyes with Danse over the rubble. She saw him blush, the pink of his cheeks a stark contrast to the dust covering his skin. 

"I don't know. I hear there's a chapel in the Glowing Sea that has a ghoul problem. Might go drop a few frags through the roof, play the rest by ear."

Danse grinned from ear to ear, and Desdemona looked at the lovesick couple with a frown. 

"Afraid your partner will need to remain here for a while," she said. "He won't be walking anywhere for a while."

Jo nodded to Danse's side and took his hand in hers. Carrington had managed to pry open his armour around his legs and arms, but was unable to get the release mechanism to work. She gave his hand a small squeeze for comfort, and wiped the sweat from his brow. They'd have to her Tinker Tom to use his tools to pry off the rest later. 

"Danse has quite a severe break in both of his legs, I'm afraid. Possibly some fractures as well but we won't be able to tell for certain until we get him an x-ray. He can explain the technicalities of why the power armour was inadequate later, but suffice it to say that we have some work to do to repair the damage. We've managed to stop the bleeding and control his pain, but the rest is work that our medications cannot fix."

"Thank you, Carrington. We should get Danse somewhere that you can work safely."

"What's the plan then? Hunker down here for the night and pray there are no angry Brotherhood stragglers, or risk going it in the dark? I know what I'd choose, if it were up to me."

"We can carry him on a stretcher," Jo suggested.

"Yeah if we have time, we can add flashing lights and sirens to it," scoffed Glory.

"No, his legs need to be secure. The right anterior tibial artery is at risk for puncture, and the left fibia looks to be shattered from what I can tell. If bone fragments break off and end up elsewhere... let's not create more work for me than we have to. Agreed?" Carrington interjected.

"Come back for me in the morning," Danse reasoned. "I'll be fine, I'll blend in with the other Brotherhood bodies everywhere.

"Not a fucking chance in hell. I go wherever you go. That was the deal."

"But we can't all stay here, Jo. We'll attract too much attention, and I can't really help if we get attacked by raiders."

Jo seemed to growl at Danse, but finally relented and considered her options. 

"Josephine, I will remain with Danse. The risk of sepsis will be quite high without antibiotics, and the longer we wait, the higher it gets. I will put him on a drip that should eliminate the risk, but I'll have to stay to administer it."  

"Fine... Carrington stays, but you're both going to be armed. The rest of us will head to Nordhaven and will be back at sunrise. I'll bring a few doctors with me to help with surgery. Once the IV is in, no lights and no noise-- at all. No one will find you in the dark so long as you stay still and quiet. Take my pack, it's got a few cans of water and some jerky, plus guns, ammo, bandages and more Med-X for pain."

"Jo, enough," Danse teased. " I'll be fine. I got my fredom, my woman, and my dignity back-- all in one day. What could go wrong that hasn't already?"


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that I've been away for so long. I lost my muse. I got hit with depression really hard and couldn't bring myself to write. Forgive me, my darlings!

Jo was anxious on the way back to see Danse the following morning. Deacon chittered like a squirrel, seemingly to himself. At least, Jo wasn't listening, anyway. Desdemona and Tom had left to plan for the liberation of more synths, leaving Jo to listen to Deacon's drabble for the duration for the walk. 

"Jo, I can't help but notice the conversation is a little one sided here," Deacon joked. Jo looked at him and smirked but didn't reply. "Listen, boss. Danse will be fine. He's been through worse."

"I know, Deac. I'm just so worried. It would kill me to lose him. I want to just live a normal life with him and our baby."

"I know. Can I offer you some advice though?" She nodded. "As soon as you can, get out of the Commonwealth. Once the Institute is destroyed, people are going to get testy around synths."

"I'll cross that bridge when we get to it," she told him resolutely. "Right now, I just want to know he's ok."  They rounded the block where the ruined building was, and Jo picked up the pace. She couldn't wait to see him, and to touch him again. It had only been a night, but she missed him. 

She walked over the pile of rubble, losing her footing. She slipped a bit, but recovered. When she stood up straight again, she was greeted with a laser rifle pointed at her face. Jo froze, not expecting to be confronted, but cursing herself that she didn't check her surroundings as Danse had taught her. 

"Well, well. What have we here?"

"Anabel," Jo sneered at seeing the once pretty blonde's charred face.

"Ah ah! You might want to be nice to me. I have a gun in your face, and a couple people you might know are inside. Or do I need to intoduce you?" Anabel grabbed her guns away and tossed them casually behind her. 

"No, I don't think Jo ever forgets a face," Deacon called, his pistol aimed at Anabel in turn. "I think we can skip the party and everyone can break for the night, don't you?"

"No," Anabel called back. "Drop your weapon Deacon. Do I look like I'm scared to die? She is, and Danse and Carrington are. You might shoot me, but not before I blast a hole in her skull and my guys inside release the dogs on your friends."

"How do I know you're not bluffing?" Deacon demanded. Anabel whistled, and two or three dogs began barking from behind the crumbling wall. Anabel smirked. 

"You could always try your luck," she mused. "But if you don't want to be Alpo, drop your weapon and kick it across the street."

Deacon muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but obliged. He put his hands in the air, hoping Jo would be released, but knew better. Anabel tossed him a pair of cuffs and demanded he put them on, and once he did, she handcuffed Jo's hands behind her back also. She grabbed them both and ushered them inside.

The place was dim, still not lot from the morning sun, but it seemed more dismal than it did in the pitch black the night before. There were only two dogs, Jo noted-- one black and one brown, who seemed to be sniffing around for food. 

"Sit," she demanded, gesturing to two large piles of rubble. The two  new prisoners had no choice, so they obliged. "You and your little group of wastelanders have taken everything from me. I was finally happy where I was in my life, and then Danse had to come and screw up everything. He misled me, made me fall for him, and when it was too late he broke my heart! 

"And you, Deacon," she hissed. "You never even bothered to check on me after you just left me there! I thought of you like a big brother, and you just abandoned me with strangers! Do you know what it's like, having been raised your whole life to hate synths, then finding out you are one? Or when one pins you down and forces you to...to..." Her lip quivered and she wiped the tears before they could escape.  

"But you," she snarled as she stood uncomfortably close to Jo. "You were the icing on the cake. First you took Danse from me, but that wasn't good enough for you, no. I finally found a man who thought the way I did, that fought and bled for what he believed in, and you just had to have him too didn't you? And you even convinced him to marry you! After everything!" 

She turned to Danse who sat glowering.

"Did she tell you about her wedding night?" She asked softly, a malicious tone in her voice. "No? Let me tell you the story. First, Maxson wanted to watch us. And I made sure we gave him a good show, oh yes I did! I ate her cunt like a piece of birthday cake, and it hit me. I'd make him love it while she hated it. So I hurt her in ways you couldn't even imagine, and oh boy, he fucking loved it. "

The room was quiet, and no one looked up from the ground. Jo was shaking, her tears were falling freely and she looked as white as fresh snow. 

"Why are you telling us this?" Carrington asked.

BANG!

Carrington dropped like a stone. 

"I'm telling you this because we're going to play a game, and is going to go exactly as I say or people die. Any more questions?" 

The group was audibly silent, but inside Jo was screaming. 

"I'm glad you all understand. Now, because I feel a bit outnumbered here, and I don't appreciate the negative energy flowing in my direction, I'm going to offer you a choice. Red, take the blade hiding in your boot and slice Dark Chocolate's throat. If you don't, we'll put a bullet in your pretty face and my guards will chop you up for the dogs."

"Fuck you!" Glory called from beyond Jo's sight. 

"Very well," Anabel sighed with exasperation. "Kill them both." She turned to Jo and offered a cruel smile. "See? Offering people a choice that isn't really a choice doesn't pay dividends. Dance didn't have a choice, I know that now. He needed you, he was programmed that way-- to be the savior, the white knight to a weak and pitiful woman. Strong women were overlooked when he was created, because they never breed well."

Two gunshots rang out, and Jo screamed. Dance winced, his IV drip finally beginning to take effect.

"Annabel, please! She's pregnant! Kill me, I'm the one who betrayed you. This has nothing to do with the child!" Dance cried, and Anabel rewarded him with a clap across the face with her laser rifle.

"Oh, lover. This has everything to do with the child! Now, you're going to take this rusty knife here... there you go," she said calmly as she placed it in his hand. "And you're going to cut that baby out of her. Or, you can save her the pain and slit her throat. Refuse, and you'll die right there while watching her bleed out. Deacon, don't worry, you'll have your turn shortly."

"There is no way that I am going to hurt her. Not a chance."

"Hmmm... you don't get it do you? I'm giving you a choice! But, that was your one opportunity to resist. And, only because I have a soft spot for you. Cortis! Get over here!" She shouted, and a Gunner came running into view. "That hunting knife I gave you? It's pretty dull, isn't it? I want you to go over there beside Josephine, and use it to remove her left pinky finger."

Josephine's eyes went wide as Cortis' started to dance in the moonlight. Danse tried to get up, and Deacon charged at Anabel. The scent of mmm ozone filled the air as Anabel pulled the trigger and lanced a shot through Deacon's thigh. Deacon fell back into Danse, and the two of them went crashing down into the dirt together.

Jo's high pitched scream pierced Danse like an arrowhead as Curtis slowly cut into her flesh. He screamed in agony as loudly as she did, and Curtis chuckled as he separated the bone from its joint and pulled it away in a swift motion. 

"There, see? My love, you had a choice. Now, I'll take every one of her digits until you do what I tell you. It's ok though, she has nineteen more.

"Danse, Richard, please. Kill me. You'll be saving me. I'm not strong enough to live through all this. Please, it's ok. I know you love me, I know you don't want to do it. I forgive you. I can't live with another lost child, don't make me do that...please."

"No, Josephine. I can't lose you. We can make another child, but there is no other woman in this world who can replace you." He crawled towards her, with tears spilling down his cheeks.

"But I won't be this woman any more. And that's if I even survive something like this. Please, you have to let me go, I'd rather it be you than anyone else. Please." Danse kissed her at that, the salty mix of their tears mingling with her blood. 

"I'm not strong enough Jo. I'm not."

"Oh, for fucks sake. Curtis! Ring finger!"

"You monster! Let them say goodbye!" Deacon shouted, and Anabel rolled her eyes. 

"Hurry up Danse, tick tock. Make a choice."

Danse nodded, but to Jo instead of Anabel. Their eyes locked and held the words they never had a chance to say. Their hopes, their dreams. Danse raised the blade to her throat and kissed her deeply. 

"If there is a heaven, I will be close behind you." 

He pressed the blade against her throat and exhaled when he saw the first drop of blood fall. Her eyes never wavered from his, and she did not flinch. 

_Fwaaaap._

Danse startled and looked around in a daze, seeing Anabel lying dead beside them, her eyes a vacant stare. Jo exhaled deeply and offered a small smile.

"About fucking time, Mac!" Deacon yelled. 

"Yeah yeah, it's not like I had a shot with your big head in the way! Race all the way out here, scale a freaking building, and get no thanks! Jeez!"

"Heaven can wait, Danse. I have you," Jo whispered, and the smile she gave him shone brighter than the sun peaking out over the horizon.


	55. A New Frontier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This be it, my darlings. I had thought to pursue another story arc, but I can't commit to it in clear conscience, so I'll wrap this up. I hope you enjoyed!

The funerals for her friends had been brief but meaningful. Deacon said a few words for Glory and Carrington: commenting on the feraciousness in Glory in defending the Freedom of synth kind; retelling stories of Carrington's humour and wit. No one else spoke, but Tom laid a handmade statuette on the gravestones--each welded with bits and pieces they had saved from the Switchboard. Jo didn't speak a word for the entire service, and seemed to stare into the distance as though she were-- mentally at least-- somewhere else.

Anabel's body had been left where it had lain, in a dark and shambling back alley. She would not be remembered as either synth nor human. She would be forgotten, as that was what Jo decided she had deserved.

MacCready was paid handsomely for his timely rescue, by both friendly embraces and a large amount of caps, which he surprisingly refused. Deacon offered to take his share, and the two began a verbal sparring match, in which they both agreed in the end that Danse should keep the money for a brain transplant. Deacon seemed to recall an old story of a tinman who braved a strange land called Oz, where he was awarded with a brain at his destination. MacCready had chuckled and said it was Danse's only hope.

Danse watched with a warmth in his heart as Jo slept against the rise and fall of his chest. They had made it. The journey had been rife with peril, but they managed to get through all of it together. He didn't know what the future had in store for them, but he knew that it would take them far from the Commonwealth, and hopefully to somewhere that they would be able to live simple lives, just a small family learning to adapt to a farming life. He could picture Jo with her hair swept back into a long braid, planting seedlings in black earth while she hummed to the child strapped to her bosom-- their child. The first hybrid of its time, and the first entity to prove that miracles were possible, all because a woman dared to love a synth. Openly, honestly, and without hesitation, she loved him. And Danse would spend the rest of his life making her sure of that decision.

Jo roused when the first rays of sunshine filtered through the dusty glass of the farmstead window and caressed her face. She offered a sleepy smile as he brushed her soft face with his calloused fingers, admiring her for the goddess she always was to him.

"So... Tinman," she yawned with a smirk. "Where to now?"

He grinned and ran his palm down her thickening side and rested it on her bulging belly, giddy excitement overtaking him when he felt the child - his child - kick.

"I've heard West Virginia is a decent place to raise a family. It's a bit of a journey, but I've heard it's beautiful and peaceful there."

"You'd leave the Commonwealth?" She asked, hesitating.

"I believe it to be the wisest course of action, if you are willing to leave, I mean... I just want to keep you safe. All of you." He grew anxious then; worrying about whether she'd want to leave her friends, her home... her memories behind. Not for the first time, he felt a pang of jealously towards her two previous lovers, both of which were deceased. Memories often favored the dead, and he couldn't hope to compete with perfect Nate or powerful Maxson, no matter how hard he tried.

His worry must have been etched on his face, he realised, when she pressed her lips to his throat and kissed the tender flesh there. She ghosted her fingers over the skin on his shoulder, and the notion habe him gooseflesh for all its sensual appeal.

"Danse, I would follow you into death. West Virginia is a lot closer," she smiled warmly at him. "But, we're hiring a caravan. I am _not_ hoofing it for ten days. This baby is not going to be born in the side of a ditch. Or crops need to be ready by then too, so we best leave soon."

"Fair enough. We can leave as soon as Lucas is available to accompany us. Although we may have a rather large problem," he said, his eyebrows knitting together into a worrying frown. Jo sat up suddenly, the concern  evident on her face.

"What is it? Don't tell me something's wrong. The farmsteads will have to learn to fend for themselves eventually! Arrgg!"

Danse couldn't contain his demeanor any longer. "It's just that...well... MacCready will be awfully disappointed. He was very keen on my obtaining a particular surgical procedure. I seem to recall him saying it was imperative lest I-- and I quote -- 'stupid you to death.'"

Jo's laugh tinkled like bells, a welcome sound after the horrendous and melancholic past few days.

"You lout!" She squealed, and Danse wondered if this is what young love felt like. "Don't scare me like that!" She laughed and Danse pulled her unto his chest before she could swat him with a pillow.

"I do have a large sum of caps thanks to our rat-faced friend refusing our gift. I had a thought of how to spend it, but I wasn't sure if you'd approve. Might be impractical, perhaps unsensical. I thought I would ask your opinion and see what you think."

"Ok, shoot. What's this unsensical plan you have up your tin sleeves?" She asked curiously.

"Hmm, not tin-- steel, woman," he muttered as he kissed along her jaw and she mewled under his ministrations.

"Ok! Ok! Steel, for the love of-- I said steel!" She giggled. "What's the plan. Open a store? Start a new branch of the Railroad?" She asked, prodding him in his side with a finger.

 "Marry me."

Jo's jaw might have hit the floor had he not shut it for her. She stared at him, slack-jawed and disbelieving until he repeated himself. 

"Josephine Lahey, will do do the honor of being my wife? I want all of us to be a real family. You, me, and the children. I'm not a perfect man, but I will protect you with my life, and do everything in my power to make you happy. And, probably things outside of my power too." More silence, and Danse began to grow restless in his confidence. He began to stumble over his own thoughts, his heart racing against his simulated ribcage. "Jo...If you're not ready, I understand. I love you, but I know you have been married once before and it was in a different world, but if you'll have me, I want to try to--"

Danse was cut off when she crashed her lips to his, her salty tears running in rivulets down her cheeks and mingling with her taste.

"Shut up Danse, just shut up. You are more than enough. You're everything to me. Everything. Of course I'll marry you." Danse smiled a childlike grin at her, and she settled down against his chest once more. "But yes...totally impractical. MacCready will be crushed."

"Maybe then his big head will match the rest of his little body?" Danse suggested with a light chuckle, relieved and excited at the same time.

"I haven't given up hope yet, but there are some miracles that even _I_ can't pull off!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My parting gift to you all... Fallout 5 leaked with teaser trailer from Bethesda...supposedly in West Virginia! If that proves true, perhaps a new series will begin for Jo and Danse!


End file.
